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DUEL 

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THE    DUEL 


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THE    DUEL 


"By   A.    KUPRIN 


NEW    YORK 

THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

1916 


{All  rights  reserved)  | 


THE    DUEL 


The  6th  Company's  afternoon  drill  was  nearly 
over,  and  the  junior  officers  looked  with  increasing 
frequency  at  their  watches,  and  with  growing  im- 
patience. The  rank  and  file  of  the  new  regiment 
were  being  instructed  in  garrison  duty.  Along  the 
whole  of  the  extensive  parade-ground  the  soldiers 
stood  in  scattered  groups:  by  the  poplars  that 
bordered  the  causeway,  by  the  gymnastic  apparatus, 
by  the  door  of  the  company's  school,  and  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  butts.  All  these  places  were 
to  represent  during  the  drill  the  most  important 
buildings  in  the  garrison — the  commander's  resi- 
dence, the  headquarters,  the  powder  magazine,  the 
administration  department,  etc.  Sentries  were 
posted  and  relieved  ;  patrols  marched  here  and 
there,  shouting  at  and  saluting  each  other  in  military 
fashion  ;  harsh  non-commissioned  officers  visited  and 
examined  the  sentries  on  duty,  trying,  sometimes  by 
a  trick,  sometimes  by  pretended  threats,  to  fool  the 
soldiers  into  infringing  the  rules,  e.g.  to  quit  their 
posts,  give  up  their  rifles,  to  take  charge  of  con- 
traband articles,  etc.  The  older  men,  who  had  had 
previous  experience  of  such  practical  jokes,  were 
very  seldom  taken  in,  but  answered  rudely,  "  The 
Tsar  alone  gives  orders  here,"  etc.,  etc.  The  young 
recruits,  on  the  other  hand,  often  enough  fell  into 
the  snare  set  for  them. 

5 


6  THE    DUEL 

"  Khliabnikov  I  "  a  stout  little  "  non-com."  cried 
angrily  in  a  voice  which  betrayed  a  passion  for 
ruling.  "What  did  I  tell  you  just  now,  simpleton? 
Did  I  put  you  under  arrest?  What  are  you  sticking 
there  for,  then?     Why  don't  you  answer?  " 

In  the  third  platoon  a  tragi-comic  scene  took 
place.  Moukhamedjinov,  a  young  soldier,  Tartar 
by  birth,  was  not  yet  versed  in  the  Russian  language. 
He  got  more  and  more  confused  under  the  com- 
mander's irritating  and  insidious  questions.  At  last 
he  lost  his  head  entirely,  brought  his  rifle  to  the 
charge,  and  threatened  all  the  bystanders  with  the 
bayonet . 

**  Stop,  you  madman  I  "  roared  Sergeant  Bobuilev. 
"  Can't  you  recognize  your  own  commander,  your 
own  captain?  " 

"  Another  step  and  you  are  a  dead  man  I  " 
shouted  the  Tartar,  in  a  furious  rage.  His  eyes  were 
bloodshot,  and  he  nervously  repelled  with  his  bayonet 
all  who  approached  him.  Round  about  him,  but 
at  a  respectful  distance,  a  crowd  of  soldiers  flocked 
together,  accepting  with  joy  and  gratitude  this 
interesting   little   interlude    in   the   wearisome   drill. 

Sliva,  the  captain  of  the  company,  approached 
to  see  what  was  going  on.  While  he  was  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  parade-ground,  where,  with  bent 
back  and  dragging  steps,  he  tottered  slowly  back- 
wards and  forwards,  a  few  young  officers  assembled 
in  a  small  group  to  smoke  and  chatter.  They 
were  three,  all  told:  Lieutenant  Viatkin,  a  bald, 
moustached  man  of  thirty-three,  a  jovial  fellow, 
chatterbox,  singer,  and  particularly  fond  of  his  glass  ; 
Sub- Lieutenant  Romashov,  who  had  hardly  served 
two  years  in  the  regiment  ;  and,  lastly,  Sub-Ensign 
Lbov,  a  lively,  well-shaped  young  man,  with  an 
expression  of  shrewd  geniality  in  his  pale  eyes  and 


THE    DUEL  7 

an  eternal  smile  on  his  thick,  innocent  lips.  He 
passed  for  a  peripatetic  storehouse  of  anecdotes, 
specially  crammed  with  old  and  worn-out  officers' 
stories, 

"  This  is  an  out-and-out  scandal,"  said  Viatkin,  as 
he  looked  at  his  dainty  little  watch,  the  case  of  which 
he  angrily  closed  with  a  little  click.  "What  the 
devil  does  he  mean  by  keeping  the  company  all 
this  time?  " 

"  You  should  ask  him  that  question,  Pavel 
Pavlich,"    replied   Lbov,    with   a   sly   look. 

"  Oh,  go  to  the  devil  !  Go  and  ask  him  your- 
self. But  the  point  which  I  want  to  emphasize  is 
that  the  whole  business  is  utterly  futile  ;  there  is 
always  this  fuss  before  the  review,  and  every  time 
they  overdo  it.  The  soldiers  are  so  worried  and 
badgered,  that  at  the  review  they  stand  like  block- 
heads. Do  you  know  that  story  about  the  two 
captains  who  made  a  pretty  heavy  bet  as  to  which 
of  them  had  in  his  company  the  best  trencher-man  ?• 
When  one  of  the  '  champions  '  had  consumed  seven 
pounds  of  bread  he  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  him- 
self beaten.  His  Captain,  furious  with  indignation, 
sent  for  his  sergeant-major,  and  said  :  *  What  made 
you  send  me  a  creature  like  that  ?  After  his  seventh 
pound  he  had  to  give  up,  and  I've  lost  my  wager  !  ' 
The  poor  sergeant-major  stared  at  his  superior. 
*  I  don't  know  what  could  have  happened  to  him, 
your  Excellency.  This  very  morning  I  rehearsed 
with  him,  and  then  he  ate  eight  pounds  without  any 
ado.'  It's  the  same  case  here,  gentlemen.  We 
rehearse  without  mercy  and  common-sense  up  to  the 
very  last,  and  thus,  when  the  tug-of-war  comes,  the 
soldier  drops  down  from  sheer  weariness." 

"  Last  night,"  began  Lbov,  who  could  hardly  get 
his  words  out  for  laughing — "  last  night,  when  the 


8  THE    DUEL 

drill  was  over,  I  went  to  my  quarters.  It  was  past 
eight,  and  quite  dark  then.  As  I  was  approaching 
the  barracks  of  the  i  ith  Company  I  heard  some 
ear-piercing  music  from  there.  I  go  there  and  am 
told  that  the  men  are  being  taught  our  horn  signals. 
All  the  recruits  were  obliged  to  sing  in  chorus.  It 
was  a  hideous  concert,  and  I  asked  Lieutenant 
Andrusevich  how  any  one  could  put  up  with  such  a 
row  so  late  at  night.  He  answered  laughingly, 
'  Why  shouldn't  we  now  and  then,  like  the  dogs, 
howl  at  the  moon?  '  " 

"  Now  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,"  interrupted 
Viatkin,  with'  a  yawn.  "  But  who's  that  riding  down 
there?    It  looks  like  Biek." 

*'  Yes,  it's  Biek-Agamalov,"  replied  sharp-sighted 
Lbbv.      "  Look  how   beautifully   he   rides." 

"  Yes,  he  does,"  chimed  in  Romashov.  *'  To  my 
thinking,  he  rides  better  than  any  other  of  our 
cavalrymen.  But  just  look  at  his  horse  dancing. 
Biek  is  showing  off." 

An  officer,  wearing  an  Adjutant's  uniform  and 
white  gloves,  was  riding  quietly  along  the  causeway. 
He  was  sitting  on  a  high,  slim-built  horse  with  a 
gold-coloured  and  short-clipped  tail,  after  the 
English  fashion.  The  spirited  animal  pirouetted 
under  his  rider,  and  impatiently  shook  its  branch-bit 
by  the  violent  tossings  of  its  long  and  nobly  formed 
neck. 

"  Pavel  Pavlich,  is  it  a  fact  that  Biek  is  a 
Circassian  by  birth?  "  asked  Romashov. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  answered  Viatkin,  "  Arme- 
nians pretend  sometimes  that  they  are  Circassians  or 
Lezghins,'  but  nobody  can  be  deceived  with  regard 

*  The  Lezghins  are  among  the  medley  of  mountain  tribes  living 
in  Daghestan  and  part  of  the  Terek  province.  These  mountaineers  of 
the  Eastern  Caucasus  are  nearly  all  Sun'i  Mohammedans. 


THE    DUEL  9 

to  Biek.  Only  look  how  he  carries  himself  on 
horseback  " 

"  Wait,  I'll  call  him,"  said  Lbov. 

Lbov  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth,  and  tried  to 
form  out  of  them  a  sort  of  speaking-tube,  and 
shouted  in  a  suppressed  voice,  so  as  not  to  be 
heard  by  the  Commander — 

"  Lieutenant  Agamalov-Biek  1  " 

The  officer  on  horseback  pulled  the  reins,  stopped 
for  a  second,  and  swung  in  the  saddle  towards  the 
right.  Then  he  also  turned  his  horse  to  the  right, 
bent  slightly  forward,  and,  with  a  springy  and 
energetic  movement,  jumped  the  ditch,  and  rode  in 
a  short  gallop  up  to  the  officers. 

He  was  a  man  somewhat  below  the  medium 
height,  lean,  muscular,  and  very  powerful.  His 
countenance,  with  its  receding  forehead,  delicate, 
aquiUne  nose,  and  strong,  resolute  lines  about  the 
mouth,  was  manly  and  handsome,  and  had  not  yet 
got  the  pale  and  sickly  hue  that  is  so  charac- 
teristic of  the  Oriental  when  he  is  getting  on 
in  years. 

"  Good-day,  Biek,"  was  Viatkin's  greeting. 
**  Who  was  the  girl  for  whom  you  were  exercising 
your  arts  of  seduction  down  there,  you  lady-killer?  " 

Biek-Agamalov  shook  hands  with  the  officers, 
whilst  with  an  easy  and  graceful  movement  he  bent 
slightly  forward  in  the  saddle.  He  smiled,  and  his 
gleaming  white  and  even  row  of  teeth  cast  a  sort  of 
lustre  over  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  with  its  black 
and  splendidly  cultivated  moustache. 

"  Two  or  three  little  Jewess  girls  were  there, 
but  what  is  that  to  do  with  me?  I  took  no  notice 
of  them." 

"  Ah  !  we  know  well  enough  how  you  play  the 
game  with   ladies,"   said  Viatkin  jestingly. 


lo  THE    DUEL 

"  I  say  !  "  interrupted  Lbov,  with  a  llaugh  ;  "  have 
you  heard  what  General  Dokturov  '  remarked  about 
the  Adjutants  in  the  infantry?  It  ought  to  interest 
you,  Biek.  He  said  they  were  the  most  dare-devil 
riders  in  the  whole  world." 

"  No  lies,  now,  ensign,"  replied  Biek,  as  he  gave 
his  horse  the  reins  and  assumed  an  expression  as  if 
he  intended  to  ride  down  the  joker. 

"  It's  true,  by  God  it  is  !  '  They  ride,'  said  he, 
'  the  most  wretched  "  crocks  "  in  the  world — 
spavined  "  roarers  " — and  yet,  only  give  the  order, 
and  off  they  fly  at  the  maddest  speed  over  stocks 
and  stones,  hedges  and  ditches — reins  loose,  stirrups 
dropped,    cap    flying,    ah  1 — veritable   cantaurs.'  " 

"What  news,  Biek?"  asked  Viatkin. 

"What  news?  None.  Ah  I  stay.  A  little  while 
ago  the  Commander  of  the  regiment  ran  across 
Lieutenant -Colonel  Liekh  at  mess.  Liekh,  as  drunk 
as  a  lord,  was  wobbling  against  the  wall  with  his 
hands  behind  him,  and  hardly  able  to  stammer  out 
a  syllable.  Shulgovich  rushed  at  him  like  an  in- 
furiated bull,  and  bellowed  in  such  a  way  that  it 
might  be  heard  over  the  whole  market-place  : 
'  Please  remove  your  hands  from  the  small  of  your 
back  when  you  stand  in  the  presence  of  your  com- 
manding officer,'  And  all  the  servants  witnessed 
this  edifying  scene." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  detestable,"  chimed  in  Viatkin, 
laughing.  "  Yesterday,  when  he  favoured  the  4th 
Company  with  a  visit,  he  shouted  :  '  Who  dares  to 
thrust  the  regulations  in  my  face?  I  am  your 
regulations.  Not  a  word  more.  Here  I'm  your 
Tsar  and  your  God.'  " 

Lbov  was  again  laughing  at   his  own  thoughts. 

•  One  of  Russia's  bravest  and  greatest  generals  in  the  war  with 
Napoleon,  1812. 


THE    DUEL  II 

"  Gentlemen,  have  you  heard  what  happened  to 
the  Adjutant  of  the  4th  Regiment?" 

"  Keep  your  eternal  stories  to  yourself,  Lbov," 
exclaimed  Viatkin,  interrupting  him  in  a  severe  tone. 
"  To-day   you're   worse   than  usual." 

"  I  have  some  more  news  to  tell,"  Biek- 
Agamalov  went  on  to  s^y,  as  he  again  facetiously 
threatened  Lbov  with  his  horse,  which,  snorting  and 
shaking  its  head,  beslavered  all  around  it  with  foam. 
"  The  Commander  has  taken  it  into  his  head  that 
the  officers  of  all  the  companies  are  to  practise 
sabre-cutting  at  a  dummy.  He  has  aroused  a  fearful 
animosity  against  himself  in  the  9th  Company. 
Epifanov  was  arrested  for  having  neglected  to 
sharpen  his  sabre.  But  what  are  you  frightened 
of,  Lbov?  He  isn't  dangerous,  and  you  must  teach 
yourself  to  make  friends  with  these  noble  animals. 
It  may,  you  know,  some  day  fall  to  your  lot  to  be 
Adjutant  ;  but  then,  I  suppose,  you  will  sit  your 
horse  as  securely  as  a  roast  sparrow  on  a 
dish." 

"'  Retro,  Satanas!  "  cried  Lbov,  who  had  some 
difficulty  in  protecting  himself  against  the  horse's 
froth-covered  muzzle.  "  You've  heard,  I  suppose, 
what  happened  to  an  Adjutant  of  the  4th  Regiment 
who  bought  himself  a  circus-horse  ?  At  the  review 
itself,  right  before  the  eyes  of  the  inspecting 
General,  the  well-trained  beast  began  to  exhibit  its 
proficiency  in  the  '  Spanish  walk.'  You  know,  I 
suppose,  what  that  is  ?  At  every  step  the  horse's  legs 
are  swung  high  in  the  air  from  one  side  to  the 
other.  At  last,  both  horse  and  rider  alighted  in 
the  thick  of  the  company.  Shrieks,  oaths,  universal 
confusion,  and  a  General,  half-dead  with  rage,  who 
at  last,  by  a  supreme  effort,  managed  to  hiss  out  : 
•  Lieutenant    and    Adjutant,    for   this    exhibition    of 


12  THE    DUEL 

your  skill  in  riding  you  have  twenty-one  days'  arrest. 
March  I  '" 

"  What  rot  I  "  interrupted  Viatkin  in  an  indignant 
tone.  "  I  say,  Biek,  the  news  of  the  sabre-cutting, 
was  by  no  means  a  surprise  to  us.  It  means  that  we 
do  not  get  any  free  time  at  all.  Turn  round  and  see 
what  an  abortion  some  one  brought  here  yesterday." 

He  concluded  his  sentence  by  a  significant  gesture 
towards  the  middle  of  the  parade-ground,  where  a 
monstrously  ugly  figure  of  raw  clay,  lacking  both 
arms  and  legs,  had  been  erected. 

"  Ha  1  look  there — already.  Well,  have  you  tried 
it?"  asked  Biek,  his  interest  excited.  "Have  you 
had  a  go  at  it  yet,  Romashov?  " 

"Not  yet." 

"  Don't  you  think  I've  something  better  to  do  than 
occupy  myself  with  rubbish  of  that  sort?  "  exclaimed 
Viatkin  angrily.  "  When  am  I  to  find  time  for 
that?  From  nine  in  the  morning  to  six  at  night  1 
have  to  be  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  and  hardly 
manage  to  gfeft  a  bite  or  sup.  Besides,  thank  God  I 
I've  still  my  wits  about  me." 

"  What  silly  talk  I  An  officer  ought  to  be  able  to 
handle  his  sabre." 

Why?  if  I  may  ask.  You  surely  know  that  in 
warfare,  with  the  firearms  now  in  use,  one  never 
gets  within  a  range  of  a  hundred  paces  of  the 
enemy.  What  the  devil's  the  use  of  a  sabre  to  me? 
I'm  not  a  cavalryman.  When  it  comes  to  the  point, 
I  shall  seize  hold  of  a  rifle  and — bang  !  So  the 
matter's  simple  enough.  People  may  say  what  they 
please  ;  the  bullet  is,  after  all,  the  safest." 

"  Possibly  so  ;  but,  even  in  time  of  peace,  there 
are  still  many  occasions  when  the  sabre  may  come  in 
useful — for  instance,  if  one  is  attacked  in  street 
riots,  tumults,  etc." 


THE    DUEL  13 

"  And  you  think  I  should  condescend  to  exchange 
cuts  with  the  tag-rag  of  the  streets?  No,  thank 
you,  my  good  friend .  In  such  a  c'ase  I  prefer  to  give 
the  command,  '  Aim,  fire  ' — and  all's  said  and  done." 

Biek-Agamalov's  face  darkened. 

"  You  are  talking  nonsense,  Pavel  Pavlich.  Now 
answer  me  this  :  Suppose,  when  you  are  taking  a 
walk,  or  are  at  a  theatre  or  restaurant,  some  coxcomb 
insults  you  or  a  civilian  boxes  your  ears.  What  will 
you  do  then?  " 

Viatkin  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  protruded  his 
under  lip  contemptuously. 

"  In  the  first  place,  that  kind  of  man  only  attacks 
those  who  show  that  they  are  afraid  of  him,  and, 
in  the  second,  I  have  my — ^revolver," 

"But  suppose  the  revolver  were  left  at  home?'* 
remarked  Lbov. 

"  Then,  naturally,  I  should  have  to  go  home  and 
fetch  it.  What  stupid  questions  !  You  seem  to 
have  clean  forgotten  the  incident  of  a  certain  comet 
who  was  insulted  at  a  music-hall  by  two  civilians. 
He  drove  home  for  his  revolver,  returned  to  the 
music-hall,  and  cheerfully  shot  down  the  pair  who 
had   insulted   him — simple   enough." 

Biek-Agamalov  made  an  indignant  gesture.  "  We 
know — we  have  heard  all  that,  but  in  telling  the 
story  you  forget  that  the  comet  in  question  was 
convicted  of  deliberate  murder.  Truly  a  very  pretty 
business.  If  I  had  found  myself  in  a  similar  situa- 
tion, I  should  have " 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence,  but  the  little, 
well-formed  hand  in  which  he  held  the  reins  was 
clenched  so  hard  that  it  trembled.  Lbov  was  seized 
with  one  of  his  usual  paroxysms  of  laughter. 

"Ah' I  you're  at  it  again,"  Viatkin  remarked 
severely. 


14  THE    DUEL 

"  Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  but  I  really  couldn't 
— ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  happened  to  think  of  a  tragi- 
comic scene  that  Was  enacted  in  the  17th  Regiment. 
Sub-Ensign  Krause  on  one  occasion  had  a  row  with 
some  one  in  an  aristocratic  club.  The  steward,  to 
prevent  further  mischief,  seized  him  so  violently 
by  the  shoulder-knot  that  the  latter  was  torn  off, 
whereupon  Krause  drew  his  revolver  and  put  a  bullet 
through  the  steward's  skull.  A  little  lawyer  who 
incautiously  mixed  himself  up  in  the  game  shared 
the  same  fate.  The  rest  of  the  party  rushed  out  of 
the  room  like  so  many  frightened  hens.  But  Krause 
quietly  proceeded  to  the  camp,  and  was  then  chal- 
lenged by  the  sentry.  '  Who  goes  there  ?  '  shouted 
the  sentry.  *  Sub -Ensign  Krause,  who  is  coming  to 
die  by  the  colours  of  his  regiment  '  ;  whereupon  he 
walked  straight  up  to  the  colours,  laid  himself 
down  on  the  ground,  and  fired  a  bullet  through 
his  left  arm.  The  court  afterwards  acquitted 
him." 

"  That  was  a  fine  fellow,"  exclaimed  Biek- 
Agamalov. 

Then  began  the  young  officers'  usual  favourite 
conversation  on  duels,  fights,  and  other  sanguinary 
scenes,  whereupon  it  was  stated  with  great  satisfac- 
tion that  such  transgressions  of  law  and  municipal 
order  always  went  unpunished.  Then,  for  instance, 
a  story  was  told  about  how  a  drunken,  beardless 
cornet  had  drawn  his  sword  at  random  on  a  small 
crowd  of  Jews  who  were  returning  from  keeping  the 
Passover  ;  how  a  sub -lieutenant  in  the  infantry  had, 
at  a  dancin_g-hall,  stabbed  to  death  an  imder- 
graduate  who  happened  to  elbow  him  at  the  buffet, 
how  an  officer  at  St.  Petersburg  or  Moscow  shot 
down  like  a  do^  a  civilian  who  dared  to  make 
the  impertinent  observation  that  decent  people  were 


THE    DUEL  15 

not  in  the  habit  of  accosting'  ladies  with  whom 
they  are  not  acquainted. 

Romashov,  who,  up  to  now,  had  been  a  silent 
Hstener  to  these  piquant  stories,  now  joined  in  the 
conversation  ;  but  he  did  so  with  every  sign  of 
reluctance  and  embarrassment.  He  cleared  his 
throat,  slowly  adjusted  his  eyeglass,  though  that 
was  not  absolutely  necessary  then,  and  finally,  in  an 
uncertain   voice,   spoke   as   follows — 

"  Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  submit  to  you  this 
question  :  In  a  dispute  of  that  sort  it  might  happen, 
you  know,  that  the  civilian  chanced  to  be  a  respect- 
able man,  even  perhaps  a  person  of  noble  birth. 
Might  it  not,  in  that  case,  be  more  correct  to 
demand  of  him  an  explanation  or  satisfaction  ?  We 
should  both  belong  to  the  cultured  class,  so  to 
speak." 

"  You're  talking  nonsense,  Romashov,"  inter- 
rupted Viatkin.  "  If  you  want  satisfaction  from 
such  scum  you'll  most  certainly  get  the  following 
answer,  which  is  httle  gratifying  :  *  Ah,  well,  my 
good  sir,  I  do  not  give  satisfaction.  That  is  con- 
trary to  my  principles.  I  loathe  duels  and  blood- 
shed— and  besides,  you  can  have  recourse,  you 
know,  to  the  Justice  of  the  Peace,  in  the  event 
of  your  feeling*  yourself  wronged.'  And  then,  for 
the  whole  of  your  life,  you  must  carry  the  delightful 
recollection  of  an  unavengfed  box  on  the  ears  from  a 
civilian." 

Biek-Agamalov  smiled  in  approbation,  and  with 
more  than  his  usual  generosity  showed  his  whole 
row  of  gleaming  white  teeth.  '■  Hark  you,  Viatkin, 
you  ought  really  to  take  some  interest  in  this  sabre- 
cutting.  With  us  at  our  home  in  the  Caucasus  we 
practise  it  from  childhood — on  bundles  of  wattles,  on 
water-spouts,  the  bodies  of  sheep." 


1 6  THE    DUEL 

"  And  men's  bodies,"  remarked  Lbov. 

"  And  on  men's  bodies,"  repeated  Agamalov  with 
unruffled  calm.  "  And  such  strokes,  too  !  In  a 
twinkling  they  cleave  a  fellow  from  his  shoulder 
to    the    hip," 

**  Biek,  can  you  perform  a  test  of  strength  like 
that?" 

Biek- Agamalov   sighed   regretfully . 

"  No,  alas  I  A  sheep,  or  a  cal^;  I  can  say  I  could 
cleave  to  the  neck  by  a  single  stroke,  but  to  cut  a 
full-grown  man  down  to  the  waist  is  beyond  my 
power.     To  my  father  it  would  be  a  trifle." 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  and  let  us  try  our  strength 
and  sabres  on  that  scarecrow,"  said  Lbov,  in  a 
determined  tone  and  with  flashing  eyes.  "Biek, 
my  dear  boy,  come  with  us." 

The  officers  went  up  to  the  clay  figure  that  had 
been  erected  a  little  way  off.  Viatkin  was  the 
first  to  attack  it.  After  endeavouring  to  impart  to 
his  innocent,  prosaic  face  an  expression  of  wild- 
beast  ferocity,  he  struck  the  clay  man  with  all  his 
might  and  with  an  unnecessarily  big  flourish  of 
his  sabre.  At  the  same  time  he  uttered  the 
characteristic  sound  "  Khryass  I  "  which  a  butcher 
makes  when  he  is  cutting  up  beef.  The  weapon 
entered  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  into  the  clay,  and 
Viatkin  had  some  trouble  to  extricate  his  brave  sabre . 

*'  Wretchedly  done,"  exclaimed  Agamalov,  shak- 
ing his  head.      "  Now,  Romashov,  it's  your  turn." 

Romashov  drew  his  sabre  from  its  sheath,  and 
adjusted  his  eyeglass  with  a  hesitating  movement. 
He  was  of  medium  height,  lean,  and  fairly  strong  in 
proportion  to  his  build,  but  through  constitutional 
timidity  and  lack  of  interest  not  much  accustomed 
to  handling  the  weapon.  Even  as  a  pupil  at  the 
Military   Academy   he   was   a   bad   swordsman,   and 


THE    DUEL  17 

after  a  year  and  a  half's  service  in  the  regiment  he 
had  abnost  completely  forgotten  the  art. 

He  raised  his  sabre  high  above  his  head,  but 
stretched  out,  simultaneously  and  instinctively,  his 
left  arm  and  hand. 

"  Mind  your  hand  I  "  shouted  Agamalov. 

But  it  was  too  late  then.  The  point  of  the  sabre 
only  made  a  slight  scratch  on  the  clay,  and 
Romashov,  to  his  astonishment,  who  had  mis- 
reckoned  on  a  strong"  resistance  to  the  steel  entering 
the  clay,  lost  his  balance  and  stumbled  forward, 
whereupon  the  blade  of  the  sabre  caught  his  out- 
stretched hand  and  tore  off  a  portion  of  skin  at  the 
lower  part  of  his  Uttle  finger,  so  that  the  blood 
oozed . 

"  There  !  See  what  you've  done  1  "  cried  Biek 
angrily  as  he  dismounted  from  his  charger.  "  How 
can  any  one  handle  a  sabre  so  badly?  You,  very 
nearly  cut  off  your  hand,  you  know.  Well,  that 
wound  is  a  mere  trifle,  but  you'd  better  bind  it  up 
with  your  handkerchief.  Ensign,  hold  my  horse. 
And  now,  gentlemen,  bear  this  in  mind.  The  force 
or  effect  of  a  stroke  is  not  jgenerated  either  in  the 
shoulder  or  the  elbow,  but  here,  in  the  wrist." 
He  made,  as  quick  as  lightning,  a  few  rotary 
movements  of  his  right  hand,  whereupon  the  point 
of  his  sabre  described  a  scintillating  circle  above  his 
head.  "  Now  look,  I  put  my  left  hand  behind 
my  back.  When  the  stroke  itself  is  to  be  delivered 
it  must  not  be  done  by  a  violent  and  clumsily  directed 
blow,  but  by  a  vigorous  cut,  in  which  the  arm 
and  sabre  are  jerked  slightly  backwards.  Do  you 
understand?  Moreover,  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
that  the  plane  of  the  sabre  exactly  coincides  with 
the  direction  of  the  stroke.     Look,  here  goes  1  " 

Biek  took  two  steps  backwards  from  the  manikin^ 

2 


i8  THE    DUEL 

to  which  he  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  fasten  himself 
tightly  by  a  sharp,  penetrating  glance.  Suddenly 
the  sabre  flashed  in  the  air,  and  a  fearful 
stroke,  delivered  with  a  rapidity,  that  the  eye 
could  not  follow,  struck  like  lightning  the  clay 
figure,  the  upper  part  of  which  rolled,  softly  biit 
heavily,  down  to  the  ground.  The  cut  made  by 
the  sabre  was  as  smooth  and  even  as  if  it  had  been 
polished . 

"  The  deuce,  that  was  something  like  a  cut  !  " 
cried  the  enthusiastic  Lbov  in  wild  delight.  "  Biek, 
my  dear  fellow,  of  your  charity  do  that  over  again." 

'*  Yes,  do,  Biek,"  chimed  in  Viatkin. 

But  Agamalov,  who  was  evidently  afraid  of 
destroying  the  effect  he  had  produced,  smiled  as  he 
replaced  the  sabre  in  its  scabbard.  He  breathed 
heavily,  and  at  that  moment,  by  his  blopdlthirsty, 
wildly  staring  eyes,  his  hawk's  nose,  and  set  mouth, 
he  put  one  in  mind  of  a  proud,  cruel,  malignant  bird 
of    prey . 

"  That  was  really  nothing  remarkable,"  he  ex- 
claimed in  a  tone  of  assumed  contempt.  "  At  home 
in  the  Caucasus  my  old  father,  although  he  is  over 
sixty-six,  could  cut  off  a  horse"*s  head  in  a  trice. 
You  see,  my  children,  everything  can  be  acquired  by 
practice  and  perseverance.  At  my  home  we  practise 
on  bundles  of  fagots  tightly  twisted  together,  or  we 
try  to  cut  through  a  water-spout  without  the  least 
splash  being  noticeable.  Well,  Lbov,  it's  your 
turn   now." 

At  that  very  moment,  however,  Bobuilev,  the 
"  non-com.,"  rushed  up  to  Viatkin,  with  terror 
depicted  on  every  feature. 

"  Your  Honour  !  The  Commander  of  the  regiment 
is  here." 

"  Attention  !  "   cried   Captain   Sliva's  sharp  voice 


THE    DUEL  19 

from  the  other  side  of  the  parade-ground.  The 
officers  hastily  made  their  way  to  their  respective 
detachments . 

A  large  open  carriage  slowly  approached  the 
avenue  and  stopped  at  the  parade-ground.  Out  of 
it  stepped  the  Commander  with  j;^reat  trouble  and 
agony  amidst  a  loud  moaning  and  groaning  from 
the  side  of  the  poor  carriage.  The  Commander  was 
followed  by  his  Adjutant,  Staff- Captain  Federovski, 
a  tall,   slim  officer  of  smart  api>earance. 

"  Good  day,  7th  Company,"  was  his  greeting 
in  a  careless,  indistinct  voice.  An  ear-splittingi 
chorus  of  soldiers,  dispersed  over  the  whole  extent 
of  the  ground,  replied  instantly  :  "  God  preserve 
your  Excellency  !  " 

The   officers   touched   their   caps. 

"  Proceed  with  the  drill,"  ordered  the  Commander, 
as  he  went  up  to  the  nearest  platoon. 

Colonel  Shulgovich  was  evidently  not  in  a 
good  humour.  He  wandered  about  the  platoons^ 
growling  and  swearing,  all  the  while  repeatedly 
trying  to  worry  the  life  out  of  the  unhappy  recruits 
by  catch-questions  from  the  "  Military  Regulations." 
Time  after  time  he  was  heard  to  reel  out  the  most 
awful  strings  of  insults  and  threats,  au'd  in  this  he 
displayed  an  inventive  power  and  mastery  that 
could  hardly  be  surpassed.  The  soldiers  stood  be- 
fore him,  transfixed  with  terror,  stiff,  motionless, 
scarcely  daring  to  breathe,  and,  as  it  were, 
hypnotized  by  the  incessant,  steadfast  glances^  as 
hard  as  marble,  from  those  senile,  colourless,  severe 
eyes.  Colonel  Shulgovich,  although  much  troubled 
with  fatness  and  advanced  in  years,  neverthe- 
less still  contrived  to  carry  his  huge,  imposing 
figure.  His  broad,  fleshy  face,  with  its  bloated 
cheeks  and  deeply  recedin£'  forehead,  was  surrounded 


20  THE    DUEL 

below  by  a  thick,  silvery,  pointed  beard,  whereby 
the  great  head  came  very  closely  to  resemble  an 
awe-inspiring  rhomboid.  The  eyebrows  were  grey, 
bushy,  and  threatening.  He  always  spoke  in  a  sub- 
dued tone,  but  his  powerful  voice — to  which  alone 
he  owed  his  comparatively  rapid  promotion — was 
heard  all  the  same  as  far  as  the  most  distant  point 
of  the  parade-g'roimd,  nay  I  even  out  on  the  hij^h- 
road. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  the  Colonel,  suddenly 
halting  in  front  of  a  young  soldier  named 
Sharafutdinov,  who  was  on  sentry  duty  near  the 
gymnastic  apparatus. 

"  Recruit  in  the  6th  Company,  Sharafutdinov, 
your  Excellency,"  the  Tartar  answered  in  a  strained 
and  hoarse  voice. 

"  Fool  I  I  mean,  of  course,  what  post  are  you 
supposed   to   occupy?" 

The  soldier,  who  was  frightened  by  his  Com- 
mander's angry  tone,  was  silent  :  he  could  only 
produce  one  or  two  nervous  twitchings  of  the  eye- 
brows . 

"Well?"    Shulgovich    raised    his    voice. 

"I  —  am  —  standing  —  on  guard,"  the  Tartar  at 
last  spluttered  out,  chancing  it.  "I  cannot — under- 
stand, your  Excellency,"  he  went  on  to  say,  but 
he  relapsed  into  silence  again,  and  stood  motionless. 

The  Colonel's  face  assumed  a  dark  brick  colour, 
a  shade  with  a  touch  of  blue  about  it,  and  his 
bushy  eyebrows  began  to  pucker  in  an  alarming  way. 
Beside  himself  with  fury,  he  turned  round  and  said 
in  a  sharp  tone — 

"Who  is  the  youngest  officer  here?" 

Romashov  stepped  forward  and  touched  his  cap. 

"  I  am,  Colonel." 

"  Ha — Sub-lieutenant    Romashov,    you    evidently 


THE    DUEL  21 

train  your  men  well.  Stand  at  attention  and  stretch 
your  legs,"  bawled  Shulgovich  suddenly,  his  eyes 
rolling.  "  Don't  you  know  how  to  stand  in  the 
presence  of  your  commanding  officer?  Captain 
Sliva,  I  beg  to  inform  you  that  your  subaltern 
officer  has  been  lacking  in  the  respect  due  to  his 
chief.  And  you,  you  miserable  cur,"  he  now  turned 
towards  the  unhappy  Sharafutdinov,  "  tell  me  the 
name  of  your  Commander." 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Sharafutdinov  quickly, 
but  in  a  firm  tone  in  which,  nevertheless,  a  melan*- 
choly  resignation  might  be  detected. 

"  Oh,  /  ask  you  the  name  of  your  Colonel. 
Do  you  know  who  I  am?  I — I — I  I  "  and  Shul- 
govich drummed  with  the  flat  of  his  hand  several 
times  on  his  broad  chest. 

"  I   don't   know." 

The  Colonel  delivered  himself  of  a  striiig  of  about 
twenty  words  of  cynical  abuse.  "  Captain  Sliva, 
I  order  you  at  once  to  exhibit  this  son  of  a  sea-cook, 
so  that  all  may  see  him,  with  rifle  and  heavy 
accoutrements,  and  let  him  stand  there  till  he  rots. 
And  as  for  you.  Sub -lieutenant,  I  know  well  enough 
that  loose  women  and  flirtation  interest  you  more 
than  the  service  does.  In  waltzing  and  reading 
Paul  de  Kock  you're  said  to  be  an  authority,  but 
as  to  i>erforming  your  duties,  instructing  your  men 
— that,  of  course,  is  beneath  your  dignity.  Just  look 
at  this  creature  "  (he  gave  Sharafutdinov  a  sound 
slap  on  the  mouth) — "is  this  a  Russian  soldier? 
No,  he's  a  brute  beast,  who  does  not  even 
recognize  his  own  commanding  officer.  You  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  yourself." 

Romashov  stared  speechlessly  at  his  chief's  red 
and  rage-distorted  countenance.  He  felt  his  heart 
threatening  to   burst   with  shame   and  indignation. 


2  2  THE    DUEL 

Suddenly,  almost  unconsciously,  he  burst  out  in  a 
hollow  voice — 

"  Colonel,  this  fellow  is  a  Tartar  and  does  not 
understand  a  word  of  our  language,  and 
besides   .   .   ." 

But  he  did  not  finish  his  sentence.  Shulgo- 
vich's  features  had  that  very  instant  undergone  a 
ghastly  change.  His  whole  countenance  was  as 
white  as  a  corpse's,  his  withered  cheeks  were  trans- 
fused with  sharp,  nervous  puckers,  and  his  eyes 
assumed  a  terrible  expression. 

"  Wh-at  I  "  roared  he  in  a  voice  so  unnatural  and 
awe-inspiring  that  a  little  crowd  of  Jew  boys,  who, 
some  distance  from  the  causeway,  were  sitting  on  the 
fence  on  which  they  had  swarmed,  were  scattered 
like  sparrows — "you   answer   back?      Silence!      A 

raw  young  ensign  permits  himself  to Lieutenant 

Federoyski,  enter  in  my  day-book  that  I  have 
ordered  Sub -lieutenant  Romashov  four  days'  arrest 
in  his  room  for  breach  of  discipline.  And  Captain 
Sliva  is  to  be  severely  rebuked  for  neglecting  to 
instil  into  his  junior  officers  '  a  true  military 
spirit.'  " 

The  Adjutant  saluted  respectfully  without  any  sign 
of  fear.  Captain  Sliva  stood  the  whole  time 
bending  slightly  forward,  with  his  hand  to  his  cap, 
and  quivering  with  emotion,  though  without  altering 
a  feature  of  his  wooden  face. 

**  I  cannot  help  being  surprised  at  you.  Captain 
Sliva,"  again  grunted  Shulgovich,  who  had  now  to 
some  extent  regained  his  self-control.  "  How  is  it 
possible  that  you,  who  are  one  of  the  best  officers  in 
the  regiment,  and,  moreover,  old  in  the  service,  can 
let  your  youngsters  run  so  wild?  They  want 
breaking  in.  It  is  no  use  to  treat  them  hke  young 
ladies  and  being  afraid  of  hurting  them," 


THE    DUEL  23 

Vvith  these  words  he  turned  his  back  on  the 
Captain,  and,  followed  by  the  Adjutant,  proceeded 
to  the  carriage  awaiting  him.  Whilst  he  was  getting 
into  the  carriage,  and  till  the  latter  had  turned 
round  behind  the  corner  of  the  regimental  school, 
a  dull,  painful  silence  reigned  in  the  parade- 
ground. 

"  Ah  I  you  dear  old  ducky,"  exclaimed  Captain 
Sliva  in  a  dry  tone  and  with  deep  contempt,  when 
the  officers  had,  some  minutes  later,  separated. 
"  Now,  gentlemen,  I  suppose  I,  too,  ought  to  say  a 
couple  of  loving  words  to  you.  Learn  to  stand  at 
attention  and  hold  your  jaw  even  if  the  sky  falls — 
etc.  To-day  I've  had  a  wigging  for  you  before  the 
whole  of  my  company.  Who  saddled  me  with  you? 
Who  asked  for  your  services  ?  Not  I,  at  any  rate . 
You  are,  for  me  and  my  company,  about  as  necessary 
as  a  fifth  leg  is  to  a  dog.  Go  to  the  deuce,  and 
return  to  your  feeding-bottle." 

He  finished  his  bitter  lecture  with  a  weary,  con- 
temptuous movement  of  his  hand,  and  dragged  him- 
self slowly  away  in  the  direction  of  his  dark,  dirty, 
cheerless  bachelor  quarters.  Romashov  cast  a  long 
glance  at  him,  and  gazing  at  the  tall,  thin  figure, 
already  bent  with  age,  as  well  as  by  the  affront  just 
endured,  he  felt  a  deep  pity  for  this  lonely,  em- 
bittered man  whom'  nobody  loved,  who  had  only 
two  interests  in  the  whole  world  —  correct 
"  dressing  "  of  the  6th  Company  when  inarching 
at  a  review,  and  the  dear  little  schnapps  bottle 
which  was  his  trusty  and  sole  companion  till  bed- 
time. 

And  whereas  Romashov  also  had  the  absurd,  silly 
habit,  which  is  often  peculiar  to  young  people,  viz. 
in  his  introspection  to  think  of  himself  as  a  third 
party,  and  then  weave  his  noble  personality  into  a 


24  THE    DUEL 

sentimental  and  stilted  phrase  from  novelettes,  our 
soft-hearted  lieutenant  now  expressed  his  opinion  of 
himself  in  the  following  touching  manner — 

"  And  over  his  kindly,  expressive   eyes  fell  the 
shadow  of  grief." 


The  soldiers  marched  home  to  their  quarters  in 
platoon  order.  The  square  was  deserted.  Romashov 
stood  hesitating  for  a  moment  at  the  causeway. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  during  the  year  and  a  half 
he  had  been  in  the  service  he  had  experienced  that 
painful  feeling  of  loneliness,  of  being  lost  among 
strangers  either  hostile  or  indifferent,  or  that  dis- 
tressful hesitation  as  to  where  one  shall  spend  the 
evening.  To  go  home  or  spend  the  evening  at 
the  officers'  mess  was  equally  distasteful  to  him. 
At  the  latter  place,  at  that  time  of  day,  there 
was  hardly  a  soul,  at  most  a  couple  of  ensigns 
who,  whilst  they  drank  ale  and  smoked  to  excess 
and  indulged  in  as  many  oaths  and  unseemly  words 
as  possible,  played  pyramids  in  the  wretched  little 
narrow  billiard-room  ;  in  addition  to  all  this,  the 
horrible  smell  of  food  pervading  all  the  rooms. 

"  I  shall  go  down  to  the  railway-station,"  said 
Romashov  at  last.     "  That  will  be  something  to  do." 

In  the  poor  little  town,  the  population  of  which 
mainly  consisted  of  Jews,  the  only  decent  restaurant 
was  that  at  the  railway-station .  There  !were  certainly 
two  clubs — one  for  officers,  the  other  for  the  civilian 
"  big- wigs  "  of  the  community.  They  were  both, 
however,  in  a  sorry  plight,  and  on  these  grounds  the 
railway  restaurant  had  become  the  only  place  where 
the  inhabitants  assembled  to  shake  off  the  dust  of 
everyday  life,   and  to  get   a  drink   or  a  game  at 

as 


2  6  THE    DUEL 

cards.  Even  the  ladies  of  the  place  accompanied 
their  male  protectors  there,  chiefly,  however,  to 
witness  the  arrival  of  the  trains  and  scrutinize  the 
passengers,  which  always  offered  a  little  change  in 
the  dreary  monotony  of  provincial  life. 

Romashov  liked  to  go  down  to  the  railway-station 
of  an  evening  at  the  time  when  the  express  arrived, 
which  made  its  last  stop  before  reaching  the  Prussian 
frontier.  With  a  curious  feeling  of  excitement  and 
tension,  he  awaited  the  moment  when  the  train 
flashed  round  a  sharp  curve  of  the  line,  the  loco- 
motive's fiery,  threatening  eye  grew  rapidly  in  size 
and  intensity,  and,  at  the  next  second,  thundered 
past  him  a  whole  row  of  palatial  carriages.  **  Like 
a  monstrously  huge  giant  that  suddenly  checks  him- 
self in  the  middle  of  a  furious  leap,"  he  thought, 
the  train  came  to  an  abrupt  stop  before  the  plat- 
form. From  the  dazzling,  illuminated  carriages,  that 
resembled  a  fairy  palace,  stepped  beautiful  and 
elegant  ladies  in  wonderful  hats,  gentlemen  dressed 
according  to  the  latest  Paris  fashion,  who,  in  perfect 
French  or  German,  greeted  one  another  with  com- 
pliments or  pointed  witticisms.  None  of  the 
passengers  took  the  slightest  notice  of  Romashov, 
who  saw  in  them  a  striking  little  sample  of  that 
envied  and  unattainable  world  where  life  is  a  single, 
uninterrupted,  triumphal  feast. 

After  an  interval  of  eight  minutes  a  bell  would 
ring,  the  engine  would  whistle,  and  the  train  de 
luxe  would  flit  away  into  the  darkness.  The  station 
would  be  soon  deserted  after  this,  and  the  lights 
lowered  in  the  buffet  and  on  the  platform,  where 
Romashov  would  remain  gazing  with  melancholy 
eyes,  after  the  lurid  gleam  of  the  red  lamp  of  the 
rear  coach,  until  it  disappeared  in  the  gloom  like  an 
extinguished  spark. 


THE    DUEL  27 

"  I  shall  go  to  the  station  for  a  while,"  Romashov 
repeated  to  himself  once  more,  but  when  he  cast 
a  glance  at  his  big,  clumsy  goloshes,  bespattered 
with  clay  and  filth,  he  experienced  a  keen  sense  of 
shame.  All  the  other  officers  in  the  regiment  wore 
the  same  kind  of  goloshes.  Then  he  noticed  the 
worn  buttonholes  of  his  shabby  cloak,  its  many  stains, 
and  the  fearfully  torn  lower  border  that  almost 
degenerated  into  a  sort  of  fringe  at  the  knees,  and 
he  sighed.  One  day  in  the  previous  week  he  had, 
as  usual,  been  promenading  the  platform,  looking 
with  curiosity  at  the  express  train  that  had  just 
arrived,  when  he  noticed  a  tall,  extraordinarily  hand- 
some lady  standing  at  the  open  door  of  a  first-class 
carriage.  She  was  bare-headed,  and  Romashov 
managed  to  distinguish  a  little,  straight,  piquant 
nose,  two  charming,  pouting  lips,  and  a  splendid, 
gleaming  black  head  of  hair  which,  parted  in  the 
middle  of  her  forehead,  stole  down  to  her  coquettish 
little  ears.  Behind  her,  and  looking  over  her 
shoulder,  stood  a  gigantic  young  man  in  a  light 
suit,  with  a  scornful  look,  and  moustaches  after 
the  style  affected  by  Kaiser  Wilhelm.  In  fact,  he 
bore  a  certain  resemblance  to  Wilhelm.  The  lady 
looked  at  Romashov,  it  seemed  to  him  with  an 
expression  of  interest,  and  he  said  to  himself  :  "  The 
fair  unknown's  eyes  rested  with  pleasure  on  the 
young  warrior's  tall,  well-formed  figure."  But  when, 
after  walking  on  a  few  steps,  he  turned  round  to 
catch  the  lady's  eyes  again,  he  saw  that  both  she  and 
her  companion  were  looking  after  him  and  laughing. 
In  that  moment  he  saw  himself  from  outside,  as  it 
were — his  awful  goloshes,  his  cloak,  pale  face,  stiff, 
angular  figure — and  experienced  a  feeling  of  shame 
and  indignation  at  the  thought  of  the  bombastic, 
romantic   phrase   he   had   just   applied   to   himself, 


28  THE    DUEL 

Ah  !  even  at  this  moment,  when  he  was  walking 
along  the  road  in  the  gloomy  spring  evening,  he 
flushed  at  that  torturing  recollection. 

"  No",  I  shall  not  go  to  the  station,"  he  whispered 
to  himself  with  bitter  hopelessness.  *-  I'll  take  a 
little  stroll  and  then  go  straight  home." 

It  was  in  the  beginning'  of  April.  The  dusk  was 
deepening  into  night.  The  poplars  that  bordered 
the  road,  the  small  white  houses  with  their  red-tiled 
roofs,  the  few  wanderers  one  met  in  the  street  at  this 
hour — all  gtew  darker,  lost  colour  and  perspective. 
All  objects  were  changed  into  black  shadow,  the 
lines  of  which,  however,  still  showed  distinctly 
against  the  dark  sky.  Far  away  westwards,  outside 
the  town,  the  sunset  stiQ  gleamed  fiery  red.  Vast 
dark-blue  clouds  melted  slowly  down  into  a  glowing 
crater  of  streaming,  flaming  gold,  and  then  assumed 
a  blood-red  hue  with  rays  of  violet  and  amber.  But 
above  the  volcano,  like  a  dome  of  varying  gteen, 
turquoise  and  beryl,  arose  the  boundless  sky  of  a 
luminous  spring  night. 

Romashov  looked  steadily  at  this  enchanting 
picture  whilst  he  slowly  and  laboriously  dragged 
himself  and  his  goloshes  along  the  causeway.  As 
he  always  did,  even  from  childhood,  he  even  now  in- 
dulged in  fancies  of  a  mysterious,  marvellous  world 
that  waited  for  and  beckoned  to  him  in  the  far 
distance,  beyond  the  sunset.  Just  there— there 
behind  the  clouds  and  the  horizon — ^is  hidden  a 
wonderfully  beautiful  city  lighted  up  by  the  beams 
of  a  sun  invisible  from  here,  and  protected  against 
our  eyes  by  heavy,  inexorable,  threatening  clouds. 
There  the  human  eye  is  blinded  by  streets  paved 
with  gold  ;  there,  to  a  dazzling  height,  the  dome- 
capped  towers  rise  above  the  purple-hued  roofs, 
where  the  palace  windows  shimmer  in  the  sun  like 


THE    DUEL  29 

innumerable  gems,  where  countless  flags  and 
banners  resplendent  with  colour  sway  in  the  breeze. 
And  in  this  fairy  city  throng  bands  of  rejoicing 
people,  whose  whole  life  is  nothing  but  an  endless, 
intoxicating  feast,  a  chord  of  harmony  and  bliss 
vibrating  for  ever  and  ever.  In  paradisaical  parks 
and  gardens,  amidst  fountains  and  flowers,  stroll 
godlike  men  and  women  fair  as  the  day,  who 
have  never  yet  known  an  imfulfilled  desire,  who 
have  never  yet  experienced  sorrow  and  struggle 
and  shame. 

Romashov  suddenly  called  to  mind  the  painful 
scene  in  the  parade-ground,  the  Commander's  coarse 
invectives  and  that  outrageous  insult  in  the  presence 
of  his  comrades  and  subordinates.  Ah  !  what 
affected  him  most  bitterly  of  all  was  that  a  person  had 
railed  at  him  before  the  soldiers  in  the  same  rough 
and  ruthless  way  as  he  himself,  alas  !  had  only  too 
often  done  to  his  subordinates.  This  he  felt  almost 
as  a  degradation,  nay,  even  as  a  debasement  of  his 
dignity  as  a  human  being. 

Then  awoke  within  him,  exacdy  as  was  the  case 
in  his  early  youth — ^alas  !  in  many  respects  he  still 
much  resembled  a  big  child — ^feelings  at  once  re- 
vengeful, fantastic,  and  intoxicating.  "  Stuff  and 
nonsense  !  "  he  shouted  out  to  himself.  "  All  my  life 
is  before  me."  And,  as  it  were,  in  keeping  with 
his  thoughts,  he  took  firmer  strides,  and  breathed 
more  deeply.  "  To-morrow  to  spite  them  all  I  shall 
rise  with  the  sun,  stick  to  my  books,  and  force 
an  entrance  into  the  Military  Academy .  Hard  work  ? 
I  can  work  hard  if  I  like.  I  must  take  myself  in 
hand,  that  is  all.  I'll  read  and  cram  like  fury, 
early  and  late,  and  then,  some  fine  day,  to  every  one's 
astonishment,  I  shall  pass  a  brilliant  examination. 
And  then,  of  course,  every  one  will  say  :    '  This  was 


30  THE    DUEL 

nothing  unexpected,  we  might  have  foretold  that 
long  ago.  Such  an  energetic,  talented  young 
man  I  '  " 

And  our  Romashov  already  saw  himself  in  his 
mind's  eye  with  a  snug  Staff  appointment  and 
unlimited  possibilities  in  the  future.  His  name 
stood  engraved  on  the  golden  tablet  of  the  Military 
Academy.  The  professors  had  predicted  a  brilliant 
career  for  him,  tried  to  retain  him  as  a  lecturer  at 
the  Acaderny,  etc.  etc. — but  in  vain.  All  his  tastes 
were  for  the  practical  side,  for  troop  service.  He 
had  also  first  to  perform  his  duties  as  company 
officer,  and  as  a  matter  of  course — yes,  as  a  matter 
of  course — in  his  old  regiment .  He  would,  therefore^ 
have  to  make  another  appearance  liere — ^in  this  dis- 
gusting little  out-of-the-way  hole — as  a  Staff  officer 
uncommonly  learned  and  all-accomplished,  in  every 
respect  unsurpassable,  well-bred  and  elegant,  in- 
exorably severe  to  himself,  but  benevolently  con- 
descending towards  others,  a  pattern  for  all,  envied 
by  all,  etc.  etc.  He  had  seen  at  the  manoeuvrles 
in  the  previous  year  a  similar  prodigy,  who  stood 
millions  of  miles  above  the  rest  of  majikind,  and  who, 
therefore,  kept  himseK  far  apart  from  his  comrades 
at  the  officers'  mess.  Cards,  dice,  heavy  drinking 
and  noisy  buffoonery  were  not  in  his  line  ;  he  had 
higher  views.  Besides,  he  had  only  honoured  with  a 
short  visit  that  miserable  place,  which  for  him  was 
only  a  stage,  a  step-ladder  on  the  road  to  honour — 
and  decorations. 

And  Romashov  pursued  his  fancies.  The 
grand  manoeuvres  have  begun,  and  the  battalion 
is  busy.  Colonel  Shulgovich,  who  never  managed 
to  make  out  the  strategical  or  tactical  situation^  gets 
more  and  more  muddled  in  his  orders,  commands 
and  countermands,  marches  his  men  aimlessly  here 


THE    DUEL  31 

and  there,  and  has  already  got  two  orderlies  at  him, 
bringing  severe  reprimands  from  the  Commander  of 
the  corps.  "  Look  here,  Captain,"  says  Shulgovich, 
turning  to  his  former  sub -lieutenant,  "  help  me  out 
of  this.  We  are  old  and  jgfood  friends,  you  know — 
well,  we  did  have  a  little  difference  on  one 
occasion.  Now  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  do." 
His  face  is  red  with  anxiety  and  vexation  ;  but 
Romashov  sits  straiglit  in  the  saddle,  salutes  stiffly, 
and  in  a  respectful  but  freezing  tone  replies : 
"  Pardon,  Colonel.  Your  duty  is  to  advance  your 
regiment  in  accordance  with  the  Commander's 
order  ;  mine  is  only  to  receive  your  instructions 
and  to  carry  them  out  to  the  best  of  my  ability."' 
In  the  same  moment  a  third  orderly  from  the  Com- 
mander approaches   at   a   furious   gallop. 

Romashov,  the  brilliant  Staff  officer,  rises  higher 
and  higher  towards  the  pinnacles  of  power  and 
glory.  A  dangerous  strike  has  taken  place  at  a 
steel  manufactory.  Romashov 's  company  is  charg'ed 
with  the  difficult  and  hazardous  task  of  restoring 
peace  and  oirder  amongst  the  rioters .  Night  \  and 
gloom,  incendiarism,  a  flaming  sea  of  fire,  an  in- 
numerable, hooting,  bloodthirsty  mob,  a  shower  of 
stones.  A  stately  young  officer' steps  in  front  of  the 
company,  his  name  is  Romashov.  "  Brothers," 
cries  he,  in  a  strong  but  melodious  voice,  "  for  the. 
third  and  last  time  I  beseech  you  to  disperse,  other- 
wise— I  shall  fire."  Wild  shouts,  derisive  laughter 
whistUng.  A  stone  hits  Romashov  on  the  shoulder, 
but  his  frank,  handsome  countenance  maintains  its 
unalterable  calm.  Slowly  he  turns  towards  his 
soldiers,  whose  eyes  scintillate  with  rage  at  the 
insolent  outrage  that  some  one  had  dared  to  commit 
on  their  idolized  Captain.  A  few  brief,  energ^etic 
words   of    command    are    heard,    "  Line   and   aim — 


32  THE    DUEL 

fire  !  "      A    crashing    report   of    rifles,    immediately  -^ 
followed  by  a  roar  of  rage  and  despair  from   the    i 
crowd.     A  few  score  dead  and  wounded  lie  where    ' 
they  have  fallen  ;    the  rest  flee  in  disorder  or  beg 
for   mercy   and    are   taken   prisoners.      The    riot   is 
quelled,  and  Romashov  awaits  a  gracious  token  of 
the   Tsar's   gratitude   and    favour,    together   with   a 
special  reward  for  the  heroism  he  displayed. 

Then  comes  the  longed-for  war.  Nay,  even 
before  the  war  he  is  sent  by  the  War  Office  to 
Germany  as  a  spy  on  the  aiemy's  military  power 
near  the  frontier.  Perfectly  familiar  with  the 
German  language,  he  enters  upon  his  hazardous 
career.  How  delightful  is  such  an  adventure  to  a 
brave  and  patriotic  man  1  Absolutely  alone,  with  a 
German  passport  in  his  pocket  and  a  street  organ 
on  his  back,  he  wanders  from  town  to  town,  from 
village  to  village,  grinds  out  tunes,  collects  coj)pers, 
plays  the  part  of  a  simple  lout,  and  meanwhile 
obtains^  in  all  secrecy,  plans  and  sketches  of  fort- 
resses, stores,  barracks,  camps,  etc.,  etc.  Foes  and 
perils  lie  in  wait  for  him  every  minute.  His  own 
Government  has  left  him  helpless  and  unprotected. 
He  is  virtually  an  outlaw.  If  he  succeeds  in  his 
purpose,  honours  and  rewards  of  all  kinds  await  him. 
Should  he  be  unmasked,  he  will  be  condemned 
straight  off^  to  be  shot  or  hanged.  He  sees  himself 
standing  in  the  dark  and  gloomy  trench,  confronted 
by  his  executioners.  Out  of  compassion  they  fasten 
a  white  cloth  before  his  eyes  ;  but  he  tears  it  away 
and  throws  it  to  the  ground  with  the  proud  words, 
"  Do  you  not  think  an  officer  can  face  death?  "  An 
old  Colonel  replies,  in  a  quivering  voice  :  "  Listen, 
my  young  friend.  I  have  a  son  of  the  same  age  as 
you.  I  will  spare  you.  Tell  ,us  your  name — tell  us, 
at  any  rate,  your  nationality,  and  the  death  sentence 


THE    DUEL  33 

will  be  commuted  to  imprisomnent."  "  I  thank 
you,  Colonel  ;  but  it  is  useless.  Do  your  duty." 
Then  he  turns  to  the  soldiers,  and  says  to  them 
in  a  firm  voice  in  German  :  "  Comrades,  there  is 
only  one  favour  I  would  crave  :  spare  my  face, 
aim  at  my  heart."  The  officer  in  command, 
deeply  moved,  raises  his  white  pocket-handker- 
chief— a  crashing  report — and  Romashov's  story  is 
ended . 

This  picture  made  such  a  lively  impression  on  his 
imagination  that  Romashov,  who  was  already  very 
excited  and  striding  along  the  road,  suddenly  stopped 
short,  trembling  all  over.  His  heart  beat  violently, 
and  he  clenched  his  hands  convulsively.  He  gained, 
however,  command  over  himself  immediately,  and 
smiling  compassionately  at  himself,  he  continued  on 
his  way  in  the  darkness. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  he  began  to  conjure 
up  fresh  pictures  in  his  imagination.  The  cruel  war 
with  Prussia  and  Austria,  long  expected  and  pre- 
pared for,  had  come.  An  enormous  battlefield, 
corpses  everywhere,  havoc,  annihilation,  blood,  and 
death.  It  was  the  chief  battle,  on  the  issue  of 
which  the  whole  war  depended.  The  decisive 
moment  had  arrived.  The  last  reserves  had  been 
brought  up,  and  one  was  waiting  anxiously  for  the 
Russian  flanking  column  to  arrive  in  time  to  attack 
the  enemy  in  the  rear.  At  any  cost  the  enemy's 
frantic  attack  must  be  met  without  flinching.  The 
most  important  and  threatened  position  on  the 
field  was  occupied  by  the  Kerenski  regiment, 
which  was  being  decimated  by  the  concentrated 
fire  of  the  enemy.  The  soldiers  fight  like  lions 
without  yielding  an  inch,  although  the  whole  line  is 
being  mowed  down  by  a  murderous  fire  of  shells. 
Every    one    feels    that    he    is    passing    through    an 

3 


34  THE    DUEL 

historical  moment.  A  few  more  seconds  of  heroic 
endurance  and  victory  will  be  snatched  out  of  the 
enemy's  hands.  But  Colonel  Shulgovich  wavers. 
He  is  a  brave  man — that  must  be  admitted — but  the 
perils  of  a  fight  like  this  are  too  much  for  his  nerves. 
He  turns  pale  and  trembles.  The  next  moment  he 
signals  to  the  bugler  to  sound  the  retreat,  and  the 
latter  has  already  put  the  bugle  to  his  lips,  when, 
that  very  moment,  Colonel  Romashov^  chief  of  the 
Staff,  comes  dashing  from  behind  the  hill  on  his 
foaming  Arab  steed.  "  Colonel,  we  dare  not 
retreat.  The  fate  of  Russia  will  be  decided  here." 
Shulgovich  begins  blustering.  "  Colonel  Romashov, 
it  is  I  who  am  in  command  and  must  answer 
to  God  and  the  Tsar.  The  regiment  must  retire — 
blow  the  bugle."  But  Romashov  snatches  the  bugle 
from  the  bugler's  hand  and  hurls  it  to  the  ground. 
"  Forward,  my  children  !  "  he  shouts  ;  "  the  eyes 
of  your  Emperor  and  your  fellow-countrymen  are 
fixed  on  you."  "  Hurrah  !  "  With  a  deafening 
shout  of  joy  the  soldiers,  led  by  Romashov,  rush 
at  the  foe.  Everything  disappears  in  a  chasm  of 
fire  and  smoke.  The  enemy  wavers,  and  soon  his 
lines  are  broken  ;  but  behind  him  gleam  the  Russian 
bayonets.        "The     victory      is      ours!        Hurrah, 

comrades  " 

Romashov,  who  no  longer  walked  but  ran, 
gesticulating  wildly,  at  last  stopped  and  gradually 
became  himself  again.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if 
some  one  with  fingers  cold  as  ice  had  suddenly 
passed  them  over  his  back,  arms,  and  legs,  his  hair 
bristled,  and  his  strong  excitement  had  brought  tears 
to  his  eyes.  He  had  no  notion  how  he  suddenly 
found  himself  near  his  quarters,  and,  as  he  recovered 
from  his  mad  fancies,  he  gazed  with  astonishment 
at  the  street  door  he  knew  so  well^  at  the  neglected 


THE    DUEL  35 

fruit-garden    within    which    stood    the    little    white- 
washed wing  where  he  lodged. 

"  How  does  all  this  nonsense  get  into  my  head?  " 
said  he,  with  a  sense  of  shame  and  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders  in  self-contempt. 


Ill 

When  Romashov  reached  his  room  he  threw  him- 
self, just  as  he  was,  witih  cap  and  sabre,  on  his  bed, 
and  for  a  loWg  time  he  lay  there  motionless,  staring 
up  at  the  ceiling.  His  head  burned,  his  back  ached  ; 
and  he  suffered  from  a  vacuum  within  him  as  pro- 
found as  if  his  mind  was  incapable  of  harbouring 
a  feeling,  a  memory,  or  a  thought.  He  felt  neither 
irritation  nor  sadness,  but  he  was  sensible  of  a 
suffocating  weight  on  his  heart,  of  darkness  and 
indifference . 

The  shades  of  a  balmy  April  night  fell.  He 
heard  his  servant  quietly  occupied  with  some  metal 
object  in  the  hall. 

"  Curiously  enough,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  have 
read  somewhere  or  other  that  one  cannot  live  a 
single  second  without  thinking.  But  here  I  lie  and 
think  about  absolutely  nothing.  Isn't  that  so? 
Perhaps  it  is  just  this  :  I  am  thinking  that  /  am 
thinking  about  nothing.  It  even  seems  as  if  a  tiny 
wheel  in  my  brain  is  in  motion.  And  see  here  a 
new  reflection,  an  objective  introspection — I  am  also 
thinking   of " 

He  lay  so  long  and  tortured  himself  with  such 
forced  mental  images  that  returned  in  an  eternal 
circle  that  it  finally  became  physically  repulsive  to 
him.  It  was  just  as  if  a  great  loathsome  spider, 
from  which  he  could  not  extricate  himself,  was  softly 

36 


THE    DUEL  37 

groping  about  under  his  brain.  At  last  he  raised  his 
head   from   the   pLUows   and   called  out — 

•'  Haindn." 

At  that  very  moment  was  heard  a  tremendous 
crash  of  something  falling  and  rolling  on  the  floor. 
It  was  probably  the  funnel  belonging  to  the  samovar 
which  had  dropped.  The  door  was  opened  hastily 
and  shut  again  with  a  loud  bang.  The  servant 
burst  into  the  room,  making  as  much  noise  in 
opening  and  shutting  the  door  as  if  we  were  running 
away  from  some   one. 

"It  is  I,  your  Honour,"  shrieked  Haindn  in  a 
fear-stricken    voice . 

"  Has  there  been  any  message  from  Lieutenant 
Nikolaiev?  " 

"  No,  your  Excellency,"  replied  Haindn  in  the 
same  shrieking  tone. 

Between  the  officer  and  his  servant  there  existed 
a  certain  simple,  sincere,  affectionately  familiar  rela- 
tionship. When  the  question  only  required  the  usual 
stereotyped,  official  answer,  e.g.  "  Yes,  your  Ex- 
cellency," "  No,  your  Excellency,"  etc.,  then  Hainan 
shrieked  the  words  in  the  same  wooden,  soulless, 
and  unnatural  way  as  soldiers  always  do  in  the  case 
of  their  officers,  and  which,  from  their  first  days  in 
the  recruit  school,  becomes  ineradicably  ingrained 
in  them  as  long  as  they  live. 

Hainan  was  by  birth  a  Circassian,  and  by  re- 
ligion an  idolater.  This  latter  circumstance  gave 
great  satisfaction  to  Romashov,  because  among  the 
young  officers  of  the  regiment  the  silly  and  boyish 
custom  prevailed  of  training  their  respective  servants 
to  be  something  unique,  or  of  teaching  them  certain 
semi-idiotic  answers  and  phrases. 

For  instance,  when  his  friends  paid  him  a  visit, 
Viatkin  used   to  say   to   his   orderly,   a  Moldavian, 


38  THE    DUEL 

"  Busioskul,  have  we  any  champagiie  in  the  cellar?  " 
And  Busioskui  would  answer  with  imperturbable 
gravity,  "  No,  your  Excellency.  Last  night  you  were 
pleased  to  drink  up  the  last  dozen."  Another  officer. 
Sub -lieutenant  Epifanov,  amused  himself  by  putting 
to  his  servant  learned  and  difficult  questions  which 
he  himself  could  hardly  answer.  *'  Listen,  my  friend. 
What  are  yoiu:  views  on  the  restoration  of  the 
monarchy  in  France  at  the  present  day?"  The 
servant  answers,  "  Your  Honour,  it  will,  I  think, 
succeed."  Lieutenant  Bobetinski  had  written 
down  a  whole  catechism  for  his  flunkey,  and  the 
latter  trained  genius  replied  frankly  and  unhesi- 
tatingly to  the  most  absurd  questions,  e.g.  "  Why  is 
this  important  for  the  third?"  Answer — "For  the 
third  this  is  not  important."  "  What  is  Holy 
Church's  opinion  about  it?"  Answer — "Holy 
Church  has  no  opinion  about  it."  The  same  servant 
would  declaim,  with  the  quaintest,  semi-tragical 
gestures,  Pinen's  role  in  "  Boris-Gudunov."  It  was 
also  usual  and  much  appreciated  to  make  him  express 
himself  in  French  :  "  Bong  shure,  musseur.  Bon 
nuite,  moussier.  Vulley  vous  du  tay,  musseur?  "  etc. 
etc.,  in  that  style.  All  these  follies  naturally  arose 
from  the  dullness  of  that  little  garrison  town,  and 
the  narrowness  of  a  life  from  which  all  interests 
were  excluded  except  those  belonging  to  the 
service . 

Romashov  often  talked  to  Hainan  about  his 
gods — about  whom  the  Circassian  had  only  dim 
and  meagre  ideas  ;  but  it  amused  him  greatly  to 
make  Hainan  tell  the  story  of  how  he  took  the  oath 
of  allegiance  to  the  Tsar  and  Russia — a  story  well 
worth  (hearing  now  and  then.  At  that  time  the  oath 
of  allegiance  was,  for  the  Orthodox,  administered 
by  a  priest  of  the  Greek  Church  ;    for  Catholics,  by 


THE    DUEL  39 

the  ksendsK;  for  Protestants,  when  a  Lutheran  pastor 
was  not  available,  by  Staff- Captain  Ditz  ;  and  for 
Mohammedans,  by  Lieutenant  Biek  -  Agamalov. 
For  Haindn  and  two  of  his  fellow-countrymen  a 
particular  and  highly  original  form  had  been 
authorized.  •  The  three  soldiers  were  ordered  to 
march  an  turn  up  to  the  Adjutant  of  the  regiment, 
and  from  the  point  of  the  sabre  held  towards  them 
they  were  required  to  bite  off,  with  deep  reverence,  a 
piece  of  bread  that  had  been  dipped  in  salt.  Under 
np  circumstances  was  the  bread  to  be  touched  by 
their  hands.  The  symbolism  of  this  curious 
ceremony  was  as  follows  :  When  the  Circassian  had 
eaten  his  lord's — ^the  Tsar's — bread  and  salt  in  this 
peculiar  way  he  was  ruthlessly  condemned  to  die  by 
the  sword  if  he  ever  failed  in  loyalty  and  obedience. 
Hainan  was  evidently  very  proud  of  having  thus 
taken  his  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Tsar,  and  he  never 
got  tired  of  relating  the  circumstance  ;  but  as 
every  time  he  told  his  story  he  adorned  it  with  fresh 
inventions  and  absurdities,  it  became  at  last  a  verit- 
able  Miinchausen  affair,  which  was  always  received 
with  Homeric  laughter  by  Romashov  and  his  guests. 

Hainan  how  thoug'ht  that  his  master  would  start 
His  usual  questions  about  gods  and  Adjutants,  and 
stood  ready  to  begin  with  a  cunning  smile  on 
his    face,    when    Romashov    said — 

"That  will  do  ;    you  can  go." 

"  Shall  I  not  lay  out  your  Honour's  new  uni- 
form?" ^sked  the  ever-attentive  Haindn. 

Romashov  (was  silent  and  pondered.  First  he 
would  say  "  Yes,"  then  "  No,"  and  again  "  Yes." 
At  last,  after  a  long,  deep  sigh,  uttered  in  the 
descending  scale,  he  replied  in  a  tone  of  resig- 
nation— 

'  Roman  Catholic  priests  are  so  called  in  Lithuania  and  Poland 


40  THE   DUEL 

*'  No,  Hainan,  never  mind  about  that — get  the 
samovar  ready  and  then  run  off  to  the  mess  for 
my  supper." 

"  I  will  stay  away  to-day,"  whispered  he  to 
himself.  "  It  doesn't  do  to  bore  people  to 
death  by  calling  on  them  like  that  every  day. 
And,  besides,  it  is  plain  I  am  not  a  man  people 
long  for." 

His  resolution  to  stay  at  home  that  evening  seemed 
fixed  enough,  and  yet  an  inner  voice  told  him  that 
even  to-day,  as  on  most  other  days  during  the  past 
three  months,  he  would  go  to  the  Nikolaievs'.  Every 
time  he  bade  these  friends  of  his  good-bye  at  mid- 
night, he  had,  with  shame  and  indignation  at  his 
own  .weakness  and  lack  of  character,  sworn  to  himself 
on  his  honour  that  he  would  not  pay  another  call 
there  for  two  or  three  weeks.  Nay,  he  had  even 
made  up  his  mind  to  give  up  altogether  these 
uncalled-for  visits.  And  all  the  while  he  was  on 
his  way  home,  whilst  he  was  undressing,  ah  I  even 
up  to  the  moment  he  fell  asleep,  he  believed  it 
would  be  an  easy  matter  for  him  to  keep  his  resolu- 
tion. The  niglit  went  by,  the  morning  dawned, 
and  the  day  drag'ged  on  slowly  and  unwillingly, 
evening"  came,  and  once  more  an  irresistible  force 
drew  him  to  this  handsome  and  elegant  abode, 
with  its  warm,  well-lighted,  comfortable  rooms, 
where  peace,  harmony,  cheerful  and  confidential  con- 
versation, and,  above  all,  the  delightful  enchantment 
of  feminine  beauty  awaited  him. 

Romashov  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed.  It  was 
already  dark,  but  he  could,  nevertheless,  easily  dis- 
cern the  various  objects  in  his  room.  Oh,  how  he 
loathed  day  by  day  his  mean,  gloomy  dwelling,  with 
its  trumpery,  tasteless  furniture  1  His  lamp,  with  its 
ugly  shade  that  resembled  a  night-cap,  on  the  in- 


THE    DUEL  41 

convenient,  rickety  writing-table,  looked  haughtily 
down  on  the  nerve-torturing  alarm-clock  and  the 
dirty,  vulgar  inkstand  that  had  the  shape  of  a  badly 
modelled  pug-dog.  Over  his  head  something  in- 
tended to  represent  a  wall  decoration — a  piece  of  felt 
on  which  had  been  embroidered  a  terrible  tiger  and 
a  still  more  terrible  Arab  riding  on  horseback,  armed 
with  a  spear.  In  one  corner  a  tumbledown  book- 
stand, in  the  other  the  fantastic  silhouette  of  a 
hideous  violoncello  case.  Over  the  only  window  the 
room  could  boast  a  curtain  of  plaited  straw  rolled  up 
into  a  tube.  Behind  the  door  a  clothes-stand  con- 
cealed by  a  sheet  that  had  been  white  in  prehistoric 
times.  Every  unmarried  subaltern  officer  had  the 
same  articles  about  him,  with  the  exception  of  the 
violoncello  which  Romashov  had  borrowed  from  the 
band  attached  to  the  regiment — in  which  it  was 
completely  unnecessary — with  the  intention  of  de- 
veloping on  it  his  musical  talent.  But  as  soon  as  he 
had  tried  in  vain  to  teach  himself  the  C  major  scale, 
he  tired  of  the  thing  altogether,  and  the  'cello  had 
now  stood  for  more  than  a  year,  dusty  and  forgotten, 
in  its  dark  comer. 

More  than  a  year  (ago  Romashov,  who  had  just  left 
the  military  college,  had  taken  both  pride  and  joy  in 
furnishing  his  modest  lodgings.  To  have  a  room  of 
his  own,  his  own  things,  to  choose  and  buy  house- 
hold furniture  according  to  his  own  liking,  to 
arrange  everything  according  to  his  own  consummate 
taste — all  that  highly  flattered  the  amour  propre  of 
that  young  man  of  two-and-twenty.  It  seemed  only 
yesterday  that  he  sat  on  the  school  form,  or  marched 
in  rank  and  file  with  his  comrades  off  to  the  general 
mess-room  to  eat,  at  the  word  of  command,  his 
frugal  breakfast.  To-day  he  was  his  own  master. 
And  how  many  hopes  and  plans  sprang  into  his  brain 


42  THE   DUEL 

in  the  course  of  those  never-to-be-forgotten  days 
when  he  furnished  and  "  adorned  "  his  new  home  ! 
What  a  severe  programme  he  composed  for  his 
future  1  The  first  two  years  were  to  be  devoted 
chiefly  to  a  thorough  study  of  classical  literature, 
French  and  German,  and  also  music.  After  that,  a 
serious  preparation  for  entering  the  Staff  College 
was  to  follow.  It  was  necessary  to  study  sociology 
and  society  life,  and  to  be  abreast  of  modern  science 
and  literature.  Romashov  therefore  felt  himself 
bound  at  least  to  subscribe  to  a  newspaper  and  to 
take  in  a  popular  monthly  magazine.  The  bookstand 
was  adorned  with  Wundt's  Psychology,  Lewes 's 
Physiology,    and    Smiles 's    Self -Help,    etc.,   etc. 

But  for  nine  long  months  have  the  books  lain 
undisturbed  on  their  shelves,  forgotten  by  Haindn, 
whose  business  it  is  to  dust  them.  Heaps  of 
newspapers,  not  even  stripped  of  their  wrappers,  lie 
cast  in  a  pile  beneath  the  writing-table,  and  the 
aesthetic  magazine  to  which  we  just  referred  has 
ceased  to  reach  Romashov  on  account  of  repeated 
"  irregularities  "  with  regard  to  the  half-yearly  pay- 
ment. Sub-Lieutenant  Romashov  drinks  a  good 
deal  of  vodka  at  mess  ;  he  has  a  tedious  and  loath- 
some liaison  with  a  married  woman  belonging  to 
the  regiment,  whose  consumptive  and  jealous 
husband  he  deceives  in  strict  accordance  with  all  the 
rules  of  art  ;  he  plays  schtoss,^  and  more  and  more 
frequently  comes  into  unpleasant  collisions  both  in 
the  service  and  also  in  the  circles  of  his  friends 
and  acquaintances. 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Honour,"  shouted  his  servant, 

entering  the   room   noisily.      Then   he   added  in   a 

friendly,   simple,   good-natured  tone  :   "I   forgot  to 

mention  that  a  letter  has  come  from  Mrs.  Peterson. 

'  Schfoss  is  a  sort  of  Russian  hazard. 


THE    DUEL  43 

The  orderly  who  brought  it  is  waiting  for  an 
answer." 

Romashov  frowned,  took  the  letter,  tore  open  a 
long,  slender,  rose-coloured  envelope,  in  a  corner  of 
which  fluttered  a  dove  with  a  letter  in  its  beak. 

"  Light  the  lamp,  Haindn,"  said  he  to  his  servant. 

My  dear  darling  irresistible  little  Georgi  (read  Romashov 
in  the  sloping,  crooked  lines  he  knew  so  well), — For  a  whole  week 
you  have  not  been  to  see  me,  and  yesterday  I  was  so  miserable 
without  you  that  I  lay  and  wept  the  whole  night.  Remember  that 
if  you  fool  me  or  deceive  me  I  shall  not  survive  it.  One  single  drop 
of  poison  and  I  shall  be  freed  from  my  tortures  for  ever  ;  but,  as  for 
you,  conscience  shall  gnaw  you  for  ever  and  ever.  You  must — must 
come  to  me  to-night  at  half-past  seven.  He  is  not  at  home,  he  is  some- 
where— on  tactical  duty  or  whatever  it  is  called.  Do  come  !  I  kiss 
you  a  thousand  thousand  times. 

Yours  always, 

Raisa. 

P.S.— 

Have  you  forgotten  the  river  fast  rushing, 

Under  the  willow-boughs  wending  its  way, 
Kisses  you  gave  me,  dear,  burning  and  crushing, 

When  in  your  strong  arms  I  tremblingly  lay  ? 

P.SS. — You  must  absolutely  attend  the  soiree  next  Saturday  at  the 
officers'  mess.     I  will  give  you  the  third  quadrille.     You  understand. 

A  long  way  down  on  the  fourth  page  lay  written — 

I  have  kissed 
here. 

This  delightful  epistle  wafted  the  familiar  perfume 
of  Persian  lilac,  and  drops  of  that  essence  had,  here 
and  there,  left  yellow  stains  behind  them  on  the 
letter,  in  which  the  characters  had  run  apart  in 
different  directions.  This  stale  scent,  combined  with 
the  tasteless,  absurdly  sentimental  tone  throughout 


44  THE   DUEL 

this  letter  from  a  little,  immoral,  red-haired  woman, 
excited  in  Romashov  an  intolerable  feeling  of 
disgust.  With  a  sort  of  grim  delight  he  first  tore 
the  letter  into  two  parts,  laid  them  carefully  together, 
tore  them  up  again,  laid  the  bits  of  paper  once  more 
together,  and  tore  them  again  into  little  bits  till  his 
fingers  got  numb,  and  then,  with  clenched  teeth  and 
a  broad,  cynical  grin,  threw  the  fragments  under  his 
writing-table.  At  the  same  time,  according  to  his 
old  habit,  he  had  time  to  think  of  himself  in  the 
third   person — 

"  And  he  burst  out  into  a  bitter,  contemptuous 
laugh." 

A  moment  later  he  realized  that  he  would  have 
to  go  that  evening  to  the  Nikolaievs'.  "  But  this 
is  the  last  time."  After  he  had  tried  to  deceive 
himself  by  these  words,  he  felt  for  once  happy 
and  calm. 

"  Hainin,  my  clothes." 

He  made  his  toilet  hastily  and  impatiently,  put 
on  his  elegant  new  tunic,  and  sprinkled  a  few  drops 
of  eau-de-Cologne  on  a  clean  handkerchief  ;  but 
when  he  was  dressed,  and  ready  to  go,  he  was 
stopped  suddenly   by   Haindn. 

"  Your  Honour,"  said  the  Circassian,  in  an  un- 
usually meek  and  supplicating  tone,  as  he  began  to 
execute  a  most  curious  sort  of  dance  before  his 
master.  Whilst  he  was  performing  a  kind  of 
"  march  on  the  spot  "  he  lifted  his  knees  right  up, 
one  after  the  other,  rocking  his  shoulders,  nodding 
his  head,  and  making  a  series  of  convulsive  move- 
ments in  the  air  with  his  arms  and  fingers.  Haindn 
was  in  the  habit  of  giving  vent  to  his  excited  feelings 
by  curious  gestures  of  that  sort. 

*'  What  do  you  want  now?  " 

"  Your    Honour,"    stammered    Hainan,    "  I    want 


THE    DUEL  45 

to  ask  you  something';  please  give  me  the  white 
gentleman." 

"The  white  gentleman?  What  white  gentle- 
man? " 

"  The  one  you  ordered  me  to  throw  away — the 
one  standing  in  that  corner." 

Haindn  pointed  with  his  fingers  to  the  stove- 
corner,  where  a  bust  of  Pushkin  was  standing  on 
the  floor.  This  bust,  which  Romashov  had  obtained 
from  a  "wandering  pedlar,  really  did  not  represent  the 
famous  poet,  but  merely  reproduced  the  forbidding 
features  of  an  old  Jew  broker.  Badly  modelled, 
so  covered  with  dust  and  fly  dirt  as  to  be  unrecogniz- 
able, the  stone  image  aroused  Romashov 's  aversion 
to  such  an  extent  that  he  had  at  last  made  up  his 
mind  to  order  Haindn  to  throw  it  into  the  yard. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  it?  "  asked  Romashov, 
laughing.  "  But  take  it  by  all  meaiis,  take  it,  I  am 
only  too  pleased.  I  d,on't  want  it,  only  I  should  like 
to  know  what  you  are  going  to  do  with  it." 

Hainan  smiled  and  changed  from  one  foot  to  the 
other. 

"  Well,  take  him,  then  ;  I  wish  you  joy  of  it. 
By  the  way,  do  you  know  who  it  is?  " 

Haindn  smiled  in  an  embarrassed  way,  and  in- 
fused still  more  energy  into  his  caperings. 

"  No — don't  know."  Hainan  rubbed  his  lips  with 
his  coat  sleeve. 

"  So  you  don't  know.  Well,  listen.  This 
is  Pushkin — Alexander  Sergievich  Pushkin.  Did 
you  imderstand  me  ?  Now  repeat — '  Alexander 
Sergievich '  " 

"  Besiaev,"  repeated  Haindn  in  a  determined  tone. 

"Besiaev?  Well,  call  him  Besiaev  if  you  like. 
Now  I  am  off.  Should  any  message  come  from 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peterson,  say  I'm  not  at  home,  and 


46  THE   DUEL 

you  don't  know  where  I  have  gone.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  But  if  any  one  wants  me  in  the  way  of 
business  connected  with  the  regiment,  run  down  at 
once  for  me  at  Lieutenant  Nikolaiev's.  You  may 
fetch  my  supper  from  the  mess  and  eat  it  yourself. 
Good-bye,  old  fellow." 

Romashov  gave  his  servant  a  friendly  smack  on 
his  shoulder,  which  was  answered  by  a  broad,  happy, 
familiar  smile. 


IV 

When  Romashov  reached  the  yard  it  was  quite  dark. 
He  stumbled  like  a  blind  man  into  the  street,  his 
huge  goloshes  sank  deep  into  the  thick,  stiff  mud, 
and  every  step  he  took  was  accompanied  by  a  smack- 
ing noise.  Now  and  again  one  golosh  stuck  so  fast 
in  the  mud  of  the  road  that  it  remained  there,  and  he 
had  all  the  difficulty  in  the  world,  whilst  balancing 
himself  wildly  on  his  other  foot,  to  recover  his 
treasure . 

The  little  town  seemed  to  him  to  be  absolutely 
dead.  Not  a  sound  was  heard,  even  the  dogs  were 
silent.  Here  and  there  a  gleam  of  light  streamed 
from  the  small,  low-pitched,  white  house,  against 
which  the  window-sills  sharply  depicted  their  shapes 
in  the  yelloAvish-brown  mire.  From  the  wet  and 
sticky  pahngs  along  which  Romashov  slowly  worked 
his  way,  from  the  raw,  moist  bark  of  the  poplars, 
from  the  dirty  road  itself,  there  arose  a  strong, 
refreshing  scent  of  spring,  which  aroused  a  certain 
unconscious  sense  of  joy  and  comfort.  Nay,  even 
with  the  tormenting  gale  which  swept  violently 
through  the  streets  seemed  mingled  a  youthful,  re- 
awakened desire  of  life,  and  the  gusts  of  wind  chased 
one  another  like  boisterous  and  sportive  children 
in  a  *'  merry-go-round." 

When    Romashov   reached   the   house   where    the 
Nikolaievs  dwelt,  he  stopped,  despondent  and  per- 

47 


48  THE   DUEL 

plexed.  The  close,  cinnamon-coloured  curtains  were 
let  down,  but  behind  them  one  could,  nevertheless, 
distinguish  the  clear,  even  glow  of  a  lamp.  On  one 
side  the  curtain  curved  inwards  and  formed  a  long, 
small  chink  against  the  window-sill.  Romashov 
pressed  his  face  cautiously  against  the  window,  and 
hardly  dared  to  breathe  for  fear  of  betraying  his 
presence . 

He  could  distinguish  Alexandra  Petrovna's  head 
and  shoulders.  She  was  sitting  in  a  stooping  atti- 
tude on  that  green  rep  divan  that  he  knew  so  well. 
From  her  bowed  head  and  slight  movements  he 
concluded  that  she  was  occupied  with  some  needle- 
work. Suddenly  she  straightened  herself  up,  raised 
her  head,  and  drew  a  long  breath.     Her  lips  moved. 

"What  is  she  saying?"  thought  Romashov. 
"  And  look  !  now  she's  smiling.  How  strange  to 
see  through  a  window  a  person  talking,  and  not  to 
be  able  to  catch  a  word  of  what  she  says." 

The  smile,  however,  suddenly  disappeared  from 
Alexandra  Petrovna's  face  ;  her  forehead  puckered, 
and  her  lips  moved  rapidly  and  vehemently.  Directly 
afterwards  she  smiled  again,  but  wickedly  and 
maliciously,  and  with  her  head  made  a  slow  gesture 
of  disapproval. 

"  Perhaps  they  are  talking  about  me,"  thought 
Romashov,  not  without  a  certain  disagreeable 
anxiety  ;  but  he  knew  how  something  pure,  chaste, 
agreeably  soothing  and  benevolent  beamed  on  him 
from  this  young  woman  who,  at  that  moment,  made 
the  same  impression  on  him  as  a  charming  canvas, 
the  lovely  picture  of  which  reminded  him  of  happy, 
innocent  days  of  long  ago.  **  Shurochka,"  whis- 
pered Romashov  tenderly. 

At  that  moment  Alexandra  Petrovna  lifted  her 
face   from  her  work  and  cast   a   rapid,   searching. 


THE    DUEL  49 

despondent  glance  at  the  window.  Romashov 
thought  she  was  looking  him  straight  in  the  face. 
It  felt  as  if  a  cold  hand  had  seized  his  heart,  and  in 
his  fright  he  hid  himself  behind  a  projection  of  the 
wall.  Again  he  was  irresolute  and  ill  at  ease,  and 
he  was  just  about  to  return  home,  when,  by  a  violent 
effort  of  the  will,  he  overcame  his  pusillanimity  and 
walked  through  a  little  back-door  into  the  kitchen. 

The  Nikolaievs'  servant  relieved  him  of  his  muddy 
goloshes,  and  wiped  down  his  boots  with  a  kitchen 
rag.  When  Romashov  pulled  out  his  pocket- 
handkerchief  to  remove  the  mist  from  his  eyeglass 
he  heard  Alexandra  Petrovna's  musical  voice  from 
the    drawing-room . 

"  Stepan,  have  they  brought  the  orders  of  the 
day  yet?  " 

"  She  said  that  with  an  object,"  thought  Roma- 
shov to  himself.  "  She  knows  well  enough  that 
I'm  in  the  habit  of  coming  about  this  time. 

"  No,  it  is  I,  Alexandra  Petrovna,"  he  answered 
aloud,  but  in  an  uncertain  voice,  through  the  open 
drawing-room  door. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Romashov.  Well,  come  in,  come 
in.  What  are  you  doing  at  the  side  entrance? 
Volodya,  Romashov  is  here." 

Romashov  stepped  in,  made  an  awkward  bow^, 
and  began,  so  as  to  hide  his  embarrassment,  to  wipe 
his  hands  with  his  handkerchief. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  bore  you,  Alexandra  Petrovna." 

He  tried  to  say  this  in  an  easy  and  jocose  tone, 
but  the  words  came  out  awkwardly,  and  as  it  seemed 
to  him,  with  a  forced  ring  about  them. 

"  What  nonsense  you  talk  !  "  exclaimed  Alex- 
andra Petrovna.  "  Sit  down,  please,  and  let  us  have 
some  tea." 

Looking  him  straight  in  the  face  with  her  clear, 

4 


50  THE   DUEL 

piercing  eyes,  she  squeezed  as  usual  his  cold  fingers 
with  her  little  soft,  warm  hand. 

Nikolaiev  sat  with  his  back  to  them  at  the  table 
that  was  almost  hidden  by  piles  of  books,  drawings, 
and  maps.  Before  the  year  was  out  he  had  to  make 
another  attempt  to  get  admitted  to  the  Staff  College, 
and  for  many  months  he  had  been  preparing  with 
unremitting  industry  for  this  stiff  examination  in 
which  he  had  already  twice  failed.  Staring  hard 
at  the  open  book  before  him,  he  stretched  his  arm 
over  his  shoulder  to  Romashov  without  turning 
round,  and  said,  in  a  calm,  husky  voice — 

"  How  do  you  do,  Yuri  '  Alexievich  ?  Is  there 
any  news?  Shurochka,  give  him  some  tea.  Excuse 
me,  but  I  am,  as  you  sec,  hard  at  work," 

"  What  a  fool  I  am  I  "  cried  poor  Romashov  to 
himself.  "What  business  had  I  here?  "  Then  he 
added  out  loud  :  "  Bad  news.  There  are  ugly  re- 
ports circulating  at  mess  with  regard  to  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Liech.  He  is  said  to  have  been  as  tight  as 
a  drum.  The  resentment  in  the  regiment  is  wide- 
spread, and  a  very  searching  inquiry  is  demanded. 
Epifanov  has  been   arrested." 

"  Oh  I  "  remarked  Nikolaiev  in  an  absent  tone. 
"  But  excuse  my  interruption.     You  don't  say  so  !  " 

"  I,  too,  have  been  rewarded  with  four  days.  But 
that  is  stale  news." 

Romashov  thought  at  that  moment  that  his  voice 
sounded  peculiar  and  unnatural,  as  if  he  were  being 
throttled.  "  What  a  wretched  creature  I  am  in 
their  eyes  I  "  thought  he,  but  in  the  next  moment 
consoled  himself  by  the  help  of  that  forced  special 
pleading  to  which  weak  and  timid  persons  usually 
have  recourse  in  similar  predicaments.  "  Such  you 
always  are  ;  something  goes  wrong;  you  feel  con- 
•  Yuri  =  George. 


THE    DUEL  51 

fused,  embarrassed,  and  at  once  you  fondly  imagine 
that  others  notice  it,  though  only  you  yourself  can 
be  clearly  conscious  of  it,"  etc.,  etc. 

He  sat  down  on  a  chair  near  Shurochka,  whose 
quick  crochet  needle  was  in  full  swing  again.  She 
never  sat  idle,  and  all  the  table-covers,  lamp-shades, 
and  lace  curtains  were  the  product  of  her  busy 
fingers.  Romashov  cautiously  took  up  the  long 
crochet  threads  hanging  from  the   ball,  and  said — 

"  What  do  you  call  this  sort  of  work?  " 

"  Guipure.  This  is  the  tenth  time  you  have  asked 
me  that." 

Shurochka  glanced  quickly  at  him,  and  then  let 
her  eyes  fall  on  her  work  ;  but  before  long  she 
looked    up    again    and    laughed. 

"  Now  then,  now  then,  Yuri  Alexievich,  don't 
sit  there  pouting.  '  Straighten  your  back  !  '  and 
'  Head  up  !  '  Isn't  that  how  you  give  your 
commands  ?  " 

But  Romashov  only  sighed  and  looked  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye  at  Nikolaiev's  brawny  neck,  the 
whiteness  of  which  was  thrown  into  strong  relief 
by  the  grey  collar  of  his  old  coat. 

"  By  Jove  !  Vladimir  Yefimovisch  is  a  lucky  dog. 
Next  summer  he's  going  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  will 
rise  to  the  heights  of  the  Academy." 

"  Oh,  that  remains  to  be  seen,"  remarked 
Shurochka,  somewhat  tartly,  looking  in  her 
husband's  direction.  "  He  has  twice  been  plucked 
at  his  examination,  and  with  rather  poor  credit  to 
himself  has  had  to  return  to  his  regiment.  This  will 
be  his  last  chance." 

Nikolaiev  turned  round  suddenly  ;  his  handsome, 
soldierly,  moustached  face  flushed  deeply,  and  his 
big  dark  eyes  glittered  with  rage. 

"  Don't  talk  rubbish,   Shurochka.     When   I   say 


52  THE   DUEL 

I  shall  pass  my  examination,  I  shall  pass  it,  and 
that's  enough  about  it."  He  struck  the  side  of  his 
outstretched  hand  violently  on  the  table.  "  You  are 
always  croaking.     I  said  I  should " 

"  Yes,  *  /  said  I  should,'  "  his  wife  repeated  after 
him,  whilst  she  struck  her  knee  with  her  little  brown 
hand.  "  But  it  would  be  far  better  if  you  could 
answer  the  following  question  :  '  What  are  the  re- 
quisites for  a  good  line  of  battle  ?  '  Perhaps  you 
don't  know  "  (she  turned  with  a  rognish  glance 
towards  Romashov)  "  that  I  am  considerably  better 
up  in  tactics  than  he.  Well,  Volodya — Staff -General 
that  is  to  be — answer  the  question  now." 

"  Look  here,  Shurochka,  stop  it,"  growled 
Nikolaiev  in  a  bad  temper.  But  suddenly  he  turned 
round  again  on  his  chair  towards  his  wife,  and  in  his 
wide-open,  handsome,  but  rather  stupid  eyes  might 
be  read  an  amusing  helplessness,  nay,  even  a  certain 
terror. 

"  Wait  a  bit,  my  little  woman,  and  I  will  try  to 
remember.  'Good  fighting  order'?  A  good 
fighting  order  must  be  arranged  so  that  one  does  not 
expose  oneself  too  much  to  the  enemy's  fire  ;  that 
one  can  easily  issue  orders,  that — that — wait  a 
minute." 

"  That  waiting  will  be  costly  work  for  you  in  the 
future,  I  think,"  said  Shurochka,  interrupting  him, 
in  a  serious  tone.  Then,  with  head  down  and  her 
body  rocking,  she  began,  like  a  regular  schoolgirl, 
to  rattle  off  the  following  lesson  without  stumbling 
over  a  single  word — 

"  '  The  requisites  of  "  good  fighting  order  "  are 
simplicity,  mobility,  flexibility,  and  the  ability  to 
accommodate  itself  to  the  ground.  It  ought  to  be 
easy  to  be  inspected  and  led.  It  must,  as  far  as 
possible,  be  out  of  reach  of  the  enemy's  fire,  easy  to 


THE    DUEL  53 

pass  from  one  formation  to  another,  and  able  to  be 
quickly  changed  from  fighting  to  marching  order.' 
Done  !  " 

She  opened  her  eyes,  took  a  deep  breath,  and,  as 
she  turned  her  lively,  smiling  countenance  to 
Romashov,  said — 

"  Was  that  all  right  ?  " 

"  What  a  memory  !  "  exclaimed  Nikolaiev  en- 
viously, as  he  once  more  plunged  into  his  books. 

"  We  study  together  like  two  comrades,"  ex- 
plained Shurochka.  "  I  could  pass  this  examination 
at  any  time.  The  main  thing  " — she  made  an 
energetic  motion  in  the  air  with  her  crochet  needle 
— "  the  main  thing  is  to  work  systematically  or 
according  to  a  fixed  plan .  Our  system  is  entirely  my 
own  invention,  and  I  say  so  with  pride.  Every  day 
we  go  through  a  certain  amount  of  mathematics  and 
the  science  of  war — I  may  remark,  by  the  way,  that 
artillery  is  not  my  forte  ;  the  formulae  of  projectiles 
are  to  me  specially  distasteful — besides  a  bit  out  of 
the  Drill  and  Army  Regxdations  Book.  Moreover, 
every  other  day  we  study  languages,  and  on  the  days 
we  do  not  study  the  latter  we  study  history  and 
geography." 

"And   Russian  too?"  asked  Romashov  politely. 

"  Russian,  do  you  say?  Yes,  that  does  not  give  us 
much  trouble  ;  we  have  already  mastered  Groth's 
Orthography,  and  so  far  as  the  essays  are  concerned, 
year  after  year  they  are  after  the  eternal  stereotyped 
pattern  :  Para  pacem,  para  bellurn;  characteristics 
of  Onyagin  and  his  epoch,  etc.,  etc." 

Suddenly  she  became  silent,  and  snatched  by  a 
quick  movement  the  distracting  crochet  needle  from 
Romashov 's  fingers.  She  evidently  wanted  to 
monopolize  the  whole  of  his  attention  to  what  she 
now  intended  to  say.     After  this  she  began  to  speak 


54  THE   DUEL 

with  passionate  earnestness  of  what  was  at  present 
the  goal  of  all  her  thoughts  and  aims. 

"  Romochka,  please,  try  to  understand  me.  I 
cannot — cannot  stand  this  any  longer.  To  remain 
here  is  to  deteriorate.  To  become  a  '  lady  of  the 
regiment,'  to  attend  your  rowdy  soirees,  to  talk 
scandal  and  intrigue,  to  get  into  tempers  every  day, 
and  wear  out  one's  nerves  over  the  housekeeping, 
money  and  carriage  bills,  to  serve  in  turn,  according 
to  precedency,  on  ladies'  committees  and  benevolent 
associations,  to  play  whist,  to — no,  enough  of  this. 
You  say  that  our  home  is  comfortable  and  charming. 
But  just  examine  this  bourgeois  happiness.  These 
eternal  embroideries  and  laces ;  these  dreadful 
clothes  which  I  have  altered  and  modernized  God 
knows  how  often  ;  this  vulgar,  *  loud  '-coloured  sofa 
rug  composed  of  rags  from  every  spot  on  earth — 
all  this  has  been  hateful  and  intolerable  to  me. 
Don't  you  understand,  my  dear  Romochka,  that  it 
is  society — real  society — that  I  want,  with  brilliant 
drawing-rooms,  witty  conversation,  music,  flirtation, 
homage.  As  you  are  well  aware,  our  good  Volodya 
is  not  one  to  set  the  Thames  on  fire,  but  he  is 
a  brave,  honourable,  and  industrious  fellow.  If  he 
can  only  gain  admission  to  the  Staff  College  I  swear 
to  procure  him  a  brilliant  career.  I  am  a  good 
linguist  ;  I  can  hold  my  own  in  any  society  what- 
ever ;  I  possess — I  don't  know  how  to  express  it — a 
certain  flexibility  of  mind  or  spirit  that  helps  me  to 
hold  my  own,  to  adapt  myself  everywhere.  Finally, 
Romochka,  look  at  me,  gaze  at  me  carefully.  Am 
I,  as  a  human  being,  so  uninteresting?  Am  I,  as  a 
woman,  so  devoid  of  all  charms  that  I  deserve  to  be 
doomed  to  stay  and  be  s.oured  in  this  hateful  place, 
in  this  awful  hole  which  has  no  place  on  the  map?  " 

She  suddenly  covered  her  face  with  her  handker- 


THE    DUEL  5  5 

chief,  and  burst  into  tears  of  self-pity  and  wounded 
pride. 

Nikolaiev  sprang  from  his  chair  and  hastened, 
troubled  and  distracted,  to  his  wife  ;  but  Shurochka 
had  already  succeeded  in  regaining  her  self-control 
and  took  her  handkerchief  away  from  her  face. 
There  were  no  tears  in  her  eyes  now,  but  the  glint 
of  wrath  and  passion  had  not  yet  died  out  of 
them. 

"It  is  all  right,  Volodya.  Dear,  it  is  nothing." 
She  pushed  him  nervously  away.  Immediately  after- 
wards she  turned  with  a  little  laugh  to  Romashov, 
and  whilst  she  was  again  snatching  the  thread  from 
him,  she  said  to  him  coquettishly  :  *'  Answer  me 
candidly,  you  clumsy  thing,  am  I  pretty  or  not  ? 
Remember,  though,  it  is  the  height  of  impoliteness 
not   to   pay   a  woman  the   compliment   she   wants." 

"  Shurochka,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self !  "  exclaimed  Nikolaiev  reprovingly,  from  his 
seat  at  the  writing-table. 

Romashov  smiled  with  a  martyr's  air  of  resigna- 
tion. Suddenly  he  replied,  in  a  melancholy  and 
quavering   voice — 

"  You  are  very  beautiful." 

Shurochka  looked  at  him  roguishly  from  her  half- 
closed  eyes,  and  a  turbulent  curl  got  loose  and  fell 
over  her  forehead. 

"  Romochka,  how  funny  you  are  !  "  she  twittered 
in  a  rather  thin,  girlish  voice.  The  sub-lieutenant 
blushed  and  thought  according  to  his  wont — 

"  And  his  heart  was  cruelly  lacerated." 

Nobody  said  a  word.  Shurochka  went  on 
diligently  crocheting.  Vladimir  Yefimovich,  who 
was  bravely  struggling  with  a  German  translation, 
now  and  then  mumbled  out  some  German  words. 
One  heard  the  flame  softly  sputtering  and  fizzing  in 


56  THE   DUEL 

the  lamp,  which  displayed  a  great  yellow  silk  shade 
in  the  form  of  a  tent.  Romochka  had  again 
managed  to  possess  himself  of  the  crochet-cotton, 
which,  almost  without  thinking  about  it,  he  softly 
and  caressingly  drew  through  the  young  woman's 
fingers,  and  it  afforded  him  a  delightful  pleasure  to 
feel  how  Shurochka  unconsciously  resisted  his  mis- 
chievous little  pulls.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if 
mysterious,  magnetic  currents,  now  and  again, 
rushed  backwards  and  forwards  through  the  delicate 
white  threads. 

Whilst  he  was  steadily  gazing  at  her  bent  head, 
he  whispered  to  himself,  without  moving  his  lips., 
as  if  he  were  carrying  on  a  tender  and  impassioned 
conversation — 

"How  boldly  you  said  to  me,  'Am  I  pretty?' 
Ah,  you  are  most  beautiful  1  Here  I  sit  looking 
at  you.  What  happiness  I  Now  listen.  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  how  you  look — how  lovely  you  are.  But 
listen  carefully.  Thy  face  is  as  dark  as  the  night, 
yet  pale.  It  is  a  face  full  of  passion.  Thy  lips  are 
red  and  warm  and  good  to  kiss,  and  thine  eyes 
surrounded  by  a  light  yellowish  shadow.  When  thy 
glance  is  directed  straight  before  thee,  the  white  of 
thine  eyes  acquires  a  bluish  shade,  and  amidst  it  all 
there  beams  on  me  a  great  dark  blue  mysteriously 
gleaming  pupil.  A  brunette  thou  art  not  ;  but  thou 
recallest  something  of  the  gipsy.  But  thy  hair  is 
silky  and  soft,  and  braided  at  the  back  in  a  knot  so 
neat  and  simple  that  one  finds  a  difficulty  in  re- 
fraining from  stroking  it.  You  little  ethereal 
creature,  I  could  lift  you  like  a  little  child  in  my 
arms  ;  but  you  are  supple  and  strong,  your  bosom- 
is  as  firm  as  a  young  girl's,  and  in  all  thy  being 
there  is  something  quick,  passionate,  compelling.  A 
good  way  down  on  your  left  ear  sits  a  charming  little 


THE    DUEL  57 

birthmark  that  is  like  the  hardly  distinguishable  scar 
after  a  ring  has  been  removed.     What  charm " 

"  Have  you  read  in  the  newspapers  about  the  duel 
between  two  officers?"  asked  Shurochka  suddenly. 

Romashov  started  as  he  awoke  from  his  dreams, 
but  he  found  it  hard  to  remove  his  gaze  from  her. 

"  No,  I've  not  read  about  it,  but  I  have  heard  talk 
of  it.     What  about  it?  " 

"  As  usual,  of  course,  you  read  nothing.  Truly, 
Yuri  Alexeitch,  you  are  deteriorating.  In  my 
opinion  the  proceedings  were  ridiculous.  I  quite 
understand  that  duels  between  officers  are  as 
necessary  as  they  are  proper." 

Shurochka  pressed  her  crochet  to  her  bosom 
with   a  gesture  of  conviction. 

"  But  why  all  this  unnecessary  and  stupid  cruelty? 
Just  listen.  A  lieutenant  had  insulted  another 
officer.  The  insult  was  gross,  and  the  Court  of 
Honour  considered  a  duel  necessary.  Now,  there 
would  have  been  nothing  to  say  about  it,  unless  the 
conditions  themselves  of  the  duel  had  been  so  fixed 
that  the  latter  resembled  an  ordinary  execution  : 
fifteen  paces  distance,  and  the  fight  to  last  till  one  of 
the  duellists  was  hors  de  combat.  This  is  only  on  a 
par  with  ordinary  slaughter,  is  it  not  ?  But  hear 
what  followed.  On  the  duelling-ground  stood  all  the 
officers  of  the  regiment,  many  of  them  with  ladies  ; 
nay,  they  had  even  put  a  photographer  behind  the 
bushes  !  How  disgusting  !  The  unfortunate  sub- 
lieutenant or  ensign — as  Volodya  usually  says — a  man 
of  your  youthful  age,  moreover  the  party  insulted^ 
and  not  the  one  who  ofifered  the  insult — received, 
after  the  third  shot,  a  fearful  wound  in  the  stomach, 
and  died  some  hours  afterwards  in  great  torture.  By 
his  deathbed  stood  his  aged  mother  and  sister,  who 
kept  house  for  him.     Now  tell  me  why  a  duel  should 


58  THE   DUEL 

be  turned  into  such  a  disgusting  spectacle.  Of 
course  the  immediate  consequence  "  (Shurochka 
almost  shrieked  these  words)  "  was  that  all  those 
sentimental  opponents  of  duelling — eugh,  how  I  de- 
spise these  '  liberal  '  weaklings  and  poltroons  I — at 
once  began  making  a  noise  and  fuss  about  '  bar- 
barism,' *  fratricide,'  how  '  duels  are  a  disgrace  to 
our  times,'  and  more  nonsense  of  that   sort." 

"  Good  God  !  I  could  never  believe  that  you  were 
so  bloodthirsty,  Alexandra  Petrovna^"  exclaimed 
Romashov,    interrupting    her . 

"  I  am  by  no  means  bloodthirsty,"  replied  Shuro- 
chka, sharply.  "  On  the  contrary,  I  am  very  tender- 
hearted. If  a  beetle  crawls  on  to  my  neck  I  remove 
it  with  the  greatest  caution  so  as  not  to  inflict  any 
hurt  on  it — but  try  and  understand  me,  Romashov. 
This  is  my  simple  process  of  reasoning  :  *  Why  have 
we  officers?'  Answer:  'For  the  sake  of  war,' 
'  What  are  the  most  necessary  qualities  of  an  officer 
in  time  of  war  ?  '  Answer  :  '  Courajge  and  a 
contempt  of  death.'  *  How  are  tliese  qualities  best 
acquired  in  time  of  peace  ?  '  Answer  :  '  By  means 
of  duels.'  How  can  that  be  proved?  Duels  are  not 
required  to  be  obligatory  in  the  French  Army,  for 
a  sense  of  honour  is  innate  in  the  French  officer  ; 
he  knows  what  respect  is  due  to  himself  and  to 
others.  Neither  is  duelling  oblig'atory  in  the  German 
Army,  with  its  highly  developed  and  inflexible 
discipline.  But  with  us — us,  as  long  as  among  our 
officers  are  to  be  found  notorious  card-sharpers  such 
as,  for  instance,  Artschakovski  ;  or  hopeless  sots,  as 
our  own  Nasanski,  when,  in  the  officers'  mess  or  on 
duty,  violent  scenes  are  of  almost  daily  occurrence 
— then,  such  being  the  case,  duels  are  both  necessary 
and  salutary.  An  officer  must  be  a  pattern  of 
correctness  ;    he  is  bound  to  weigh  every  word  he 


THE    DUEL  59 

utters.  And,  moreover,  this  delicate  squeamishness, 
the  fear  of  a  shot  !  Your  vocation  is  to  risk  your 
life — which  is   precisely   the   point." 

All  at  once  she  brought  her  long  speech  to  a  close, 
and  with  redoubled  energy  resumed  her  work. 

"  Shurochka,  what  is  '  rival  '  in  German?  "  asked 
Nikolaiev,   lifting  his   head   from   the   book. 

"  Rival  "  ?  Shurochka  stuck  her  crochet-needle 
in  her  soft  locks.     "  Read  out  the  whole  sentence." 

*'  It  runs — wait — directly — directly — ah  !  it  runs  : 
'  Our    rival    abroad.'  " 

"  Unser  ausldndischer  Nebenbuhlcr,"  translated 
Shurochka    straight    off. 

"  Unser,''  repeated  Romashov  in  a  whisper  as  he 
gazed  dreamily  at  the  flame  of  the  lamp.  "  When 
she  is  moved,"  thought  he,  "  her  words  come  like 
a  torrent  of  hail  falling  on  a  silver  tray.  Unser — 
what   a   funny   word  !     Unser — unser — unser.'' 

"  What  are  you  mumbling  to  yourself  about, 
Romashov?"  asked  Alexandra  Petrovna  severely. 
"  Don't  dare  to  sit  and  build  castles  in  the  air  .'whilst 
I   am   present." 

He  smiled  at  her  with  a  somewhat  embarrassed 
air. 

"  I  was  not  building  castles  in  the  air,  but  repeat- 
ing to  myself  *  Unser — unser.'  Isn't  it  a  funny 
word?" 

"  What  rubbish  you  are  talking  !  Unser.  Why  is 
it  funny?  " 

"  You  see  "  (he  made  a  isjight  pause  as  if  he  really 
intended  to  think  about  what  he  meant  to  saj),  "  if 
one  repeats  the  same  word  for  long,  and  at  the  same 
lime  concentrates  on  it  all  his  faculty  of  thought,  the 
word  itself  suddenly  loses  all  its  meaning  and  be- 
comes— how  can  I  put  it?  " 

"  I  know,  I  know  I  "  she  interrupted  delightedly. 


6o  THE    DUEL 

"  But  it  is  not  easy  to  do  it  now.  When  I  was  a 
child,   now — how  we   used  to   love   doing  it  ! 

"  Yes — yes — it  belongs  to  childhood — yes." 

"  How  well  I  remember  it  !  I  remember  the  word 
'  perhaps  '  particularly  struck  me.  1  could  sit  for 
a  long  time  with  eyes  shut,  rocking  my  body  to  and 
fro,  whilst  I  was  repeatedly  saying'  over  and  over 
again,  '  Perhaps,  perhaps.'  And  suddenly  I  quite 
forgot  what  the  word  itself  meant.  I  tried  to 
remember,  but  it  was  no  use.  I  saw  only  a  little 
round,  reddish  blotch  with  two  tiny  tails.  Are  you 
attending?  "    Romashov  looked  tenderly  at  her. 

"  How  wonderful  that  we  should  think  the  same 
thoughts  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  dreamy  tone.  "  But 
let  us  return  to  our  miser.  Does  not  this  word 
suggest  the  idea  of  something  long,  thin,  lanky, 
and  having  a  sting — a  long,  twisting  insect,  poison- 
ous and  repulsive?" 

'' Unser,  did  you  say?"  Shurochka  lifted  up 
her  head,  blinked  her  eyes,  and  stared  obstinately  at 
the  darkest  corner  of  the  room.  She  was  evidently 
striving  to  improve  on  Romashov's  fanciful  ideas. 
"  No,  wait,  (j riser  is  something  green  and  sharp. 
Well,  we'll  suppose  it  is  an  insect — a  grasshopper, 
for  instance — but  big,  disgusting,  and  poisonous. 
But  how  stupid  we  are,  Romochka  !  " 

"  There's  another  thin^  I  do  sometimes,  only  it 
was  much  easier  when  1  was  a  chUd,"  resumed 
Romashov  in  a  mysterious  tone.  "  I  used  to 
take  a  word  and  pronounce  it  slowly,  extremely 
slowly.  Every  letter  was  drawn  out  and  empha- 
sized interminably.  All  of  a  sudden  I  was  seized 
by  a  strangely  inexpressible  feeling  :  all— everything 
near  me  sank  into  an  abyss,  and  I  alone  remained, 
marvelling   that   1   lived,  thought,  and  spoke." 

"  I,  too,  have  had  a  similar  sensation,"  interrupted 


THE    DUEL  6i 

Shurochka  gaily,  "  yet  not  exactly  the  same.  Some- 
times I  made  violent  efforts  to  hold  my  breath  all 
the  time  I  was  thinking.  "  I  am  not  breathing, 
and  I  won't  breathe  again  till,  till — then  all  at 
once  I  felt  as  if  time  was  running  past  me. 
No,  time  no  longer  existed  ;  it  was  as  if — oh,  I 
can't  explain  !  " 

Romashov  gazed  into  her  enthusiastic  eyes,  and 
repeated  in  a  low  tone,   thrilling  with  happiness — 

"  No,  you  can't  explain  it.  It  is  strange — 
inexplicable." 

Nikolaiev  got  up  from  the  table  where  he  had  been 
working.  His  back  ached,  and  his  legs  had  gone 
dead  from  long  sitting  in  the  same  uncomfortable 
position.  The  arteries  of  his  strong,  muscular  body 
throbbed  when,  with  arms  raised  high,  he  stretched 
himself  to  his  full  length. 

"  Look  here,  my  learned  psychologists,  or  what- 
ever I  should  call  you,  it  is  supper-time." 

A  cold  collation  had  been  laid  in  the  comfortable 
Httle  dining-room,  where,  suspended  from  the 
ceiling,  a  china  lamp  with  frosted  glass  shed  its 
clear  light.  Nikkolaiev  never  touched  spirits,  but 
a  little  decanter  of  schnapps  had  been  put  on  the 
table  for  Romashov.  Shurochka,  contorting  her 
pretty  face  by  a  contemptuous  grimace,  said,  in  the 
careless  tone  she  so  often  adopted — 

"  Of  course,  you  can't  do  without  that  poison?  " 

Romashov  smiled  guiltily,  and  in  his  confusion 
the  schnapps  went  the  wrong  way,  and  set  him 
coughing . 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?"  scolded  his 
young  hostess.  "  You  can't  even  drink  it  without 
choking  over  it.  I  can  forgive  it  in  your  adored 
Nasanski,  who  is  a  notorious  drunkard,  but  for  you, 
a  handsome,  promising  young  man,  not  to  be  able 


62  THE    DUEL 

to  sit  down  to  table  without  vodka,  it  is  really  melan- 
choly.     But   that   is   Nasanski's   doing   too  !  " 

Her  husband,  who  was  glancing  through  the  regi- 
mental orders  that  had  just  come  in,  suddenly  called 
out — 

"  Just  Usten  !  *  Lieutenant  Nasanski  has  received 
a  month's  leave  from  the  regiment  to  attend  to  his 
private  affairs.'  Tut,  tut  !  What  does  that  mean? 
He  has  been  tippling  again  ?  You,  Yuri  Alexievich, 
are  said,  you  know,  to  visit  him.  Is  it  a  fact  that 
he  has  begun  to  drink  heavily?" 

Romashov  looked  embarrassed  and  lowered  his 
gaze. 

"  No,  I  have  not  observed  it,  but  he  certainly 
does  drink  a  little  now  and  again,  you  know." 

"  Your  Nasanski  is  offensive  to  me,"  remarked 
Shurochka  in  a  low  voice,  trembling  with  suppressed 
bitterness.  "  If  it  were  in  my  power  I  would  have  a 
creature  like  that  shot  as  if  he  were  a  mad  dog. 
Such  officers  are  a  disgrace  to  their  regiment." 

Almost  directly  after  supper  was  over,  Nikolaiev, 
who  in  eating  had  displayed  no  less  energy  than  he 
had  just  done  at  his  writing-table,  began  to  gape, 
and  at  last  said   quite   plainly — 

"  Do  you  know,  I  think  I'll  just  take  a  little  nap. 
Or  if  one  were  to  go  straight  off  to  the  Land  of 
Nod,  as  they  used  to  express  it  in  our  good  old 
novels " 

"  A  good  idea,  Vladimir  Yefimovich,"  said 
Romashov,  interrupting  him  in,  as  he  thought,  a 
careless,  dreamy  tone,  but  as  he  rose  from  table  he 
thought  sadly,  "  They  don't  stand  on  ceremony  with 
me  here.    Why  on  earth  do  I  come?  " 

It  seemed  to  him  that  it  afforded  Nikolaiev  a 
particular  pleasure  to  turn  him  out  of  the  house  ;  but 
just  as  he  was  purposely,  saying*  g'ood-bye.  to  his  host 


THE    DUEL  63 

first,  he  was  already  dreaming  of  the  delightful 
moment  when,  in  taking  leave  of  Shurochka,  he 
would  feel  at  the  same  time  the  strong  yet  caressing 
pressure  of  a  beloved  one's  hand.  When  this 
longed-for  moment  at  length  arrived  he  found  him- 
self in  such  a  state  of  happiness  that  he  did  not 
hear  Shurochka  say  to  him — 

"Don't  quite  forget  us.  You  know  you  are 
always  welcome.  Besides,  it  is  far  more  healthy 
for  you  to  spend  your  evenings  with  us  than  to  sit 
drinking  with  that  dreadful  Nasanski.  Also,  don't 
forget   we  stand   on  no    ceremony   with   you." 

He  heard  her  last  words  as  it  were  in  a  dream, 
but  he  did  not  realize  their  meaning  till  he  reached 
the   street. 

"  Yes,  that  is  true  indeed  ;  they  don't  stand  on 
ceremony  with  me,"  whispered  he  to  himself  with 
the  painful  bitterness  in  which  young  arid  conceited 
persons  of  his   age  are   so   prone  to  indulge. 


ROMASHOV  was  still  standing  on  the  doorstep. 
The  night  was  rather  warm,  but  very  dark.  He 
began  to  grope  his  way  cautiously  with  his  hand 
on  the  palings  whilst  waiting  imtil  his  eyes  got 
accustomed  to  the  darkness.  Suddenly  the  kitchen- 
door  of  Nikolaiev's  dwelling  was  thrown  open,  and 
a  broad  stream  of  misty  yellow  light  escaped. 
Heavy  steps  sounded  in  the  muddy  street,  the  next 
moment  Romashov  heard  Stepan's,  the  Nikolaievs' 
servant's,    angry    voice — 

"  He  comes  here  every  blessed  day,  and  the  deuce 
knows   what  he   comes   for." 

Another  soldier,  whose  voice  Romashov  did  not 
recognize,  answered  indifferently  with  a  lazy,  long- 
drawn  yawn — 

"  What  business  can  it  be  of  yours,  my  dear 
fellow?    Good-night,  Stepan." 

"  Good-night  to  vou,  Baulin  ;  look  in  when  you 
Uke." 

Romashov's  hands  suddenly  clung  to  the 
palings.  An  unendurable  feeling  of  shame  made 
him  blush,  in  spite  of  the  darkness.  All  his  body 
broke  out  into  a  perspiration,  and,  in  his  back  and 
the  soles  of  his  feet,  he  felt  the  sting  of  a  thousand 
red-hot,  pointed  nails.  "  This  chapter's  closed  ; 
even  the  soldiers  laugh  at  me,"  thought  he  with 
indescribable  pain.  Directly  afterwards  it  flashed 
on  his  mind  that  that  very  evening,  in  many  expres- 


THE    DUEL  65 

sipns  used,  in  the  tones  of  the  replies,  in  glances 
exchanged  between  man  and  wife,  he  had  seen  a 
number  of  trifles  that  he  had  hitherto  not  noticed, 
but  which  he  now  thought  testified  only  to  contempt 
of  him,  and  ridicule,  impatience  and  indignation 
at   the   persistent   visits   of  that   insufferable   guest. 

"  What  a  disgrace  and  scandal  this  is  to  me  I  "  he 
whispered  without  stirring  from  the  spot.  "  Things 
have  reached  such  a  pitch  that  it  is  as  much  as  the 
Nikolaievs    can   do   to   endure   my   company." 

The  Hghts  in  their  drawing-room  were  now 
extinguished.  "They  are  in  their  bedroom  now," 
thought  Romashov,  and  at  once  he  began  fanc)dng 
that  Nikolaiev  and  Shurochka  were  then  talking 
about  him  whilst  making  their  toilet  for  the  night 
with  the  indifference  and  absence  of  bashfulness  at 
each  other's  presence  that  is  characteristic  of  married 
couples.  The  wife  is  sitting  in  her  petticoat  in  front 
of  the  mirror,  combing  her  hair.  Vladimir  Yefimo- 
vitch  is  sitting  in  his  night-shirt  at  the  edge  of 
the  bed,  and  saying  in  a  sleepy  but  angty  tone, 
whilst  flushed  with  the  exertion  of  taking  off  his 
boots  :  "  Hark  you,  Shurochka,  that  infernal  bore, 
your  dear  Romashov,  wiU  be  the  death  of  me  with 
his  insufferable  visits.  And  I  really  can't  under- 
stand how  you  can  tolerate  him."  Then  to  this 
frank  and  candid  speech  Shurochka  replies,  without 
turning  round,  and  with  her  mouth  full  of  hairpins  : 
"  Be  good  enough  to  remember,  sir,  he  is  not  my 
Romochka,    but   yours.'* 

Another  five  minutes  elapsed  before  Romashov, 
stiU  tortured  by  these  bitter  and  painful  thoughts, 
made  up  his  mind  to  continue  his  journey.  Along 
the  whole  extent  of  the  palings  belonging  to  the 
Nikolaievs'  house  he  walked  with  stealthy  steps, 
cautiously  and  gently  dragging  his  feet   from  the 

5 


66  THE    DUEL 

mire,  as  if  he  feared  he  might  be  discovered  and 
arrested  as  a  common  vagrant .  To  go  straight  home 
was  not  to  his  liking  at  all.  Nay,  he  dared  not 
even  think  of  his  gloomy,  low-pitched,  cramped  room 
with  its  single  window  and  repulsive  furniture.  '•  By 
Jove  I  why  shouldn't  I  look  up  Nasanski,  just  to 
annoy  her}  "  thought  he  aU  of  a  sudden,  where- 
upon he  experienced  the  delightful  satisfaction  of 
revenge . 

**  She  reproached  me  for  my  friendship  with 
Nasanski.  Well,  I  shall  just  for  that  very  reason 
pay  him  a  visit." 

He  raised  eyes  to  heaven,  and  said  to  himself 
passionately,  as  he  pressed  his  hands  against  his 
heart — 

'*  I  swear — I  swear  that  to-djay  I  have  visited  them 
for  the  last  time .  I  will  no  longer  endure  this  morti- 
fication." 

And  immediately  afterwards  he  added  mentally, 
as  was  his  ingrained  habit — 

"  His  expressive  black  eyes  glistened  with  reso- 
lution and  contempt." 

But  Romashov's  eyes,  unfortunately,  were  neither 
"black"  nor  "expressive,"  but  of  a  very  common 
colour,  slightly  varying  between  yellow  and  green. 

Nasanski  tenanted  a  room  in  a  comrade's — 
Lieutenant  Si^gerscht's — house.  This  Si^gerscht 
was  most  certainly  the  oldest  lieutenant  in  the  whole 
Russian  Army.  Notwithstanding  his  unimpeachable 
conduct  as  an  officer  and  the  fact  of  his  having 
served  in  the  war  with  Turkey,  through  some 
unaccountable  disposition  of  fate,  his  military  career 
seemed  closed,  and  every  hope  of  further  advance- 
ment was  apparently  lost.  He  was  a  widower,  with 
four  little  children  and  forty-eight  roubles  a  month, 
on  which  sum,   strangely   enough,   he   managed   to 


THE    DUEL  '67 

get  along.  It  was  his  practice  to  hire  large  flats 
which  he  afterwards,  in  turn,  let  out  to  his  brother 
officers.  He  took  in  boarders,  fattened  and  sold 
fowls  and  turkeys,  and  no  one  understood  better 
than  he  how  to  purchase  wood  and  other  necessaries 
cheap  and  at  the  right  time.  He  bathed  his  children 
himself  in  a  common  trough,  prescribed  for  them 
from  his  httle  medicine-chest  when  they  were  ill, 
and,  with  his  sewing-machine,  made  them  tiny  shirts, 
under-vests,  and  drawers.  Like  many  other  officers. 
Singers  cht  had,  in  his  bachelor  days,  interested  him- 
self in  woman's  work,  and  acquired  a  readiness 
with  his  needle  that  proved  very  useful  in  hard 
times.  Malicious  tpngues  went  so  far  as  to  assert 
that  he  secretly  and  stealthily  sold  his  handiwork. 

Notwithstanding  all  his  economy  and  closeness, 
his  Ufe  was  full  of  troubles.  Epidemic  diseases 
ravaged  his  fowl-house,  his  numerous  rooms  stood 
unlet  for  long  periods  ;  his  boarders  grumbled  at 
their  bad  food  and  refused  to  pay .  The  consequaice 
of  this  was  that,  three  or  four  times  a  year, 
Si^gerscht — taU,  thin,  and  imshaven,  with  cheerless 
countenance  and  a  forehead  dripping  with  cold  sweat 
— might  be  seen  on  his  way  to  the  town  to  borrow 
some  small  sum.  And  all  recognized  the  low,  regi- 
mental cap  that  resembled  a  pancake,  always  with 
its  peak  askew,  as  well  as  the  antiquated  cloak, 
modelled  on  those  worn  in  the  time  of  the  Emperor 
Nicholas,  which  waved  in  the  breeze  like  a  couple 
of  huge   wings. 

A  light  was  burning  in  Si^gerscht's  flat,  and  as 
Romashov  approached  the  window,  he  saw  him 
sitting  by  a  round  table  under  a  hanging-lamp .  The 
bald  head,  with  its  gentle,  wotn  features^  was  bent 
low  over  a  little  piece  of  red  cloth  which  was  prob- 
ably destined  to  form  an  integral  part  of  a  Little 


68  THE    DUEL 

Russian  roubashka.^  Romashov  went  up  and  tapped 
at  the  window.  Si^gerscht  started  up,  laid  aside  his 
work,  rose  from  the  table,  and  went  up  to  the 
window. 

"It  is  I,  Adam  Ivanich — open  the  window  a 
moment." 

Si^gerscht  opened  a  little  pane  and  looked  out. 

"  Well,  it's  you,  Sub -Lieutenant  Romashov. 
What's   up?" 

"  Is  Nasanski  at  home?  " 

"  Of  course  he's  at  home — where  else  should  he 
be?  Ah  I  your  friend  Nasanski  cheats  me  nicely, 
I  can  tell  you.  For  two  months  I  have  kept  him 
in  food,  but,  as  for  his  paying  for  it,  as  yet  I've 
only  had  grand  promises.  When  he  moved  here, 
I  asked  him  most  particularly  that,  to  avoid  unpleas- 
antness   and   misunderstandings,    he    should " 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  know  all  about  that,"  interrupted 
Romashov  ;  "  but  tell  me  now  how  he  is.  Will  he 
see  me?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,  that  he  will  ;  he  does  nothing 
but  walk  up  and  down  his  room."  Siegerscht 
stopped  and  listened  for  a  second.  "  You  yourself 
can  hear  him  tramping  about.  You  see,  I  said  to 
him,  '  To  prevent  unpleasantness  and  misunderstand- 
ings, it  will  be  best  for '  " 

"  Excuse  me,  Adam  Ivanich  ;  but  we'll  talk  of 
that  another  time.  I'm  in  a  bit  of  a  hurry,"  said 
Romashov,  interrupting  him  for  the  second  time, 
and  meanwhile  continuing  his  way  round  the  corner. 
A  light  was  burning  in  one  of  Nasanski's  windows  ; 
the  other  was  wide  open.  Nasanski  himself  was 
walking,  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and  without  a  collar, 
backwards  and  forwards  with  rapid  steps.  Roma- 
shov crept  nearer  the  wall  and  caJled  him  by  name. 

'  Roubashka  (blouse). 


THE    DUEL  69 

"Who's  there?"  asked  Nasanski  in  a  careless 
tone,  leaning  out  of  the  window.  "  Oh,  it's  you, 
Georgie  Alexievich.  Come  in  through  the  window. 
It's  a  long  and  dark  way  round  through  that  door. 
Hold  out  your  hand  and  I'll  help  you." 

Nasanski 's  dwelling  was  if  possible  more  wretched 
that  Romashov's.  Along  the  wall  by  the  window 
stood  a  low,  narrow,  uncomfortable  bed,  the  bulging, 
broken  bottom  of  which  was  covered  by  a  coarse 
cotton  coverlet  ;  on  the  other  wall  one  saw  a  plain 
unpainted  table  with  two  common  chairs  without 
backs.  High  up  in  one  corner  of  the  room  was 
a  little  cupboard  fixed  to  the  wall.  A  brown 
leather  trunk,  plastered  all  over  with  address  labels 
and  railway  numbers,  lay  in  state.  There  was  not 
a  single  thing  in  the  room  except  these  articles 
and  the  lamp. 

"  Good- evening,  my  friend,"  said  Nasanski,  with 
a  hearty  hand-shake  and  a  warm  glance  from  his 
beautiful,  deep  blue  eyes.  '*  Please  sit  down  on 
this  bed.  As  you've  already  heard,  I  have  handed 
in  my  sick-report." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  it  just  now  from  Nikolaiev." 

Again  Romashov  called  to  mind  Stepan's  insulting 
remark,  the  painful  memory  of  which  was  reflected 
in  his  face. 

"  Oh,  you  come  from  the  Nikolaievs,"  cried  Nas- 
anski and  with  visible  interest.  "  Do  you  often  visit 
them?" 

The  unusual  tone  of  the  question  made  Romashov 
uneasy  and  suspicious,  and  he  instinctively  uttered 
a  falsehood.     He  answered  carelessly — 

"  No,  certainly  not  often.  I  just  happened  to  look 
them   up." 

Nasanski,  who  Ijad  been  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  during  the  conversation,  now  stopped  before 


70  THE    DUEL 

the  little  cupboard,  the  door  of  which  he  opened. 
On  one  of  its  shelves  stood  a  bottle  of  vodka, 
and  beside  it  lay  an  apple  cut  up  into  thin,  even 
slices.  Standing  with  his  back  to  his  guest, 
Nasanski  poured  out  for  himself  a  glass,  and  quickly 
drained  it.  Romashov  noticed  how  Nasanski 's 
back,  under  its  thin  linen  shirt,  quivered  con- 
vulsively. 

"Would  you  like  anything*?  "  asked  Nasanski, 
with  a  gesture  towards  the  cupboard.  "  My  larder 
is,  as  you  see,  poor  enoug'h  ;  but  if  you  are  hungry 
one  can  always  try  and  procure  an  omelette.  Any- 
how, that's  more  than  our  father  Adam  had  to 
offer." 

"  Thanks,   not  now.     Perhaps  later  on." 

Nasanski  stuck  his  hands  in  his  pocket,  and 
walked  about  the  room.  After  jpacing  up  and  down 
twice  he  began  talking  as  though  resuming  an  in- 
terrupted conversation. 

"  Yes,  I  am  always  walking  up  and  down  and 
thinking.  But  I  am  quite  happy.  To-morrow,  of 
course,  they  will  say  as  usual  in  the  regiment, 
'  He's  a  drunkard.'  And  that  is  true  in  a  sense, 
but  it  is  not  the  whole  truth.  All  the  same,  at 
this  moment,  I'm  happy  ;  I  feel  neither  pain  nor 
ailments.  It  is  different,  alas  I  in  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances. My  mind  and  will-power  are  para- 
lysed ;  I  shall  again  become  a  cowardly  and 
despicably  mean  creature,  vain,  shabby,  hypocritical 
— a  curse  to  myself  and  every  one  else.  I 
loathe  my  profession,  but,  nevertheless,  I  remain 
in  it.  And  why?  Ah  I  the  devil  himself  could 
not  ■explain  that.  Because  I  had  it  knocked  into 
me  in  my  childhood,  and  have  lived  since  in  a  set 
where  it  is  held  that  the  most  important  thing  in  life 
is   to  serve  the  State,  to  be  free  from  anxiety  as 


THE    DUEL  71 

to  one's  clothes  and  daily  bread.  And  philosophy, 
people  say,  is  mere  rubbish,  good  enough  for  one 
who  has  nothing  else  to  do  or  who  has  come  into  a 
goodly   heritage  from  his   dear  mamma. 

*'  Thus  I,  too,  occupy  myself  with  things  in  which 
I  don't  take  the  slightest  interest,  or  issue  orders  that 
seem  to  me  both  harsh  and  unmeaning.  My  daily 
nfe  is  as  monotonous  and  cheerless  as  an  old  deal 
board,  as  rough  and  hard  as  a  soldier's  regulation 
cap.  I  dare  scarcely  think  of,  far  less  talk  of, 
love,  beauty,  my  place  in  the  scheme  of  creation, 
of  freedom  and  happiness,  of  poetry  and  God. 
They  would  only  laugh  ha  !  ha  I  ha  1  at  me,  and 
say  :  '  Oh,  damn  it  !  That,  you  know,  is  philosophy . 
It  is  not  only  ridiculous  but  even  dangerous  for 
an  officer  to  show  he  holds  any  high  views,'  and 
at  best  the  officer  escapes  with  being  dubbed  a 
harmless,  hopeless  ass." 

"  And  yet  it  is  this  that  alone  gives  life  any 
value,"    sighed   Romashov. 

"  And  now  the  happy  hour  is  drawing  nigh 
about  which  they  tattle  so  heartlessly  and  with 
so  jjiuch  contempt,"  Nasanski  went  on  to  say 
without  listening  to  Romashov 's  words.  He 
walked  incessantly  backwards  and  forwards,  and 
interpolated  his  speech,  every  now  and  then,  with 
striking  gestures,  which  were  not,  however, 
addressed  to  Romashov,  but  were  always  directed 
to  the  two  corners  of  the  room  which  he  visited 
in  turn.  "  Now  comes  my  turn  of  freedom, 
Romashov — freedom  for  soul,  thought,  and  will. 
Then  I  shall  certainly  live  a  peculiar,  but  never- 
theless rich,  inner  life.  All  that  I  have  ^een,  heard, 
and  read  wiU  then  gain  a  deeper  meaning,  will 
appear  in  a  clear  and  more  distinct  light,  ^d  receive 
a  deep,  infinite  sigiiificance .     My  memory  will  then 


72  THE    DUEL 

be  like  a  museum  of  rare  curiosities.  I  shall  be 
a  very  Rothschild.  I  take  the  first  object  within 
my  reach,  gaze  at  it  long,  closely,  and  with  rapture. 
Persons,  events,  characters,  books,  women,  love — 
nay,  first  and  last,  women  and  love — all  this  is 
interwoven  in  my  imagination.  Now  and  then  I 
think  of  the  heroes  and  geniuses  of  history,  of  the 
countless  martyrs  of  religion  and  science.  I  don't 
believe  in  God,  Romashov,  but  sometimes  I  think 
of  the  saints  and  martyrs  and  call  to  mind  thje 
Holy   Scriptures   and   canticles." 

Romashov  got  up  quietly  from  his  seat  at  the 
edge  of  the  bed  and  walked  away  to  the  open 
window,  and  then  he  sat  down  with  his  back  resting 
against  the  sill.  From  that  spot,  from  the  lighted 
room,  the  night  seemed  to  him  still  darker  and 
more  fraught  with  mystery.  Tepid  breezes  whis- 
pered just  beneath  the  window,  amongst  the  dark 
foliage  of  the  shrubs .  And  in  this  mild  air,  charged 
with  the  sharp,  aromatic  perfume  of  spring,  under 
those  gleaming  stars,  in  this  dead  silence  of  the 
universe,  one  might  fancy  he  felt  the  hot  breath 
of  reviving,   generating,   voluptuous   Nature. 

Nasanski  continued  all  along  his  eternal  wander- 
ing, and  indulged  in  building  castles  in  the  air, 
without  looking  at  Romashov,  as  if  he  were  talking 
to  the  walls. 

"  In  these  moments  my  thoughts  —  seething, 
motley,  original — chase  one  another.  My  senses 
acquire  an  unnatural  acuteness  ;  my  imagination 
becomes  an  overwhelming  flood.  Persons  and 
things,  living  or  dead,  which  are  evoked  by  me 
stand  before  me  in  high  relief  and  also  in  an  extra- 
ordinarily intense  light,  as  if  I  sa'w  them  in  a  camera 
obscura.  I  know,  I  know  now,  that  aU  that  is 
merely  a  super-excitation  of  the  senses,  an  emanation 


THE    DUEL  73 

of  the  soul  flaming  up  like  lightning,  but  in  the  next 
instant  flickering  out,  being  produced  by  the  physio- 
logical influence  of  alcohol  on  the  nervous  system. 
In  the  beginning  I  thought  such  psychic  phenomena 
impUed  an  elevation  of  my  inner,  spiritual  Ego, 
and  that  even  I  might  have  moments  of  inspiration. 
But  no  ;  there  was  nothing  permanent  or  of  any 
value  in  this,  nothing  creative  or  fructifying.  Alto- 
gether it  was  only  a  morbid,  physiological  process, 
a  river  wave  that  at  every  ebb  that  occurs  sucks  away 
with  it  and  destroys  the  beach.  Yes,  this,  alas  1 
is  a  fact.  But  it  is  also  equally  indisputable  that 
these  wild  imaginings  procured  me  moments  of 
ineffable  happiness.  And  besides,  let  the  devil  keep 
for  his  share  your  much-vaunted  high  morality, 
your  hypocrisy,  and  your  insufferable  rules  of  health . 
I  don't  want  to  become  one  of  your  pillar-saints 
nor  do  I  wish  to  live  a  hundred  years  so  as  to 
figure  as  a  physiological  miracle  in  the  advertise- 
ment columns  of  the  newspapers.  I  am  happy, 
and  that  suffices." 

Nasanski  again  went  up  to  the  little  cupboard, 
poured  out  and  swallowed  a  "  nip,"  after  which  he 
shut  the  cupboard  door  with  much  ceremony  and  an 
expression  on  his  face  as  if  he  had  fulfilled  a 
religious  duty.  Romashov  walked  listlessly  up  from 
the  window  to  the  cupboard,  the  life-giving  contents 
of  which  he  sampled  with  a  gloomy  and  blase 
air.  This  done,  he  returned  to  his  seat  on  the 
window-bench , 

"  .What  were  you  thinking  about  just  before  I 
came,  Vasili  NOich?  "  asked  Romashov,  as  he  made 
himself  as  comfortable  as  possible. 

Nasanski,  however,  did  not  hear  his  question. 
"  How  sweet  it  is  to  dream  of  women  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed with  a  grand  and  eloquent  gesture.     "  But 


74  THE    DUEL 

away  with  all  unclean  thoughts  !  And  why?  Ah  I 
because  no  one  has  any  right,  even  in  imagination, 
to  make  a  human  being  a  culprit  in  what  is  low,  sin- 
ful, and  impure .  How  often  I  think  of  chaste,  tender, 
loving  women,  of  their  bright  tears  and  gracious 
smiles  ;  of  young,  devoted,  self-sacrificing  mothers, 
of  all  those  who  have  faced  death  for  love  ;  of 
proud,  bewitching  maidens  with  souls  as  pure  as 
snow,  knowing  all,  yet  afraid  of  nothing.  But  such 
women  do  not  exist — yet  I  am  wrong,  Romashov  ; 
such  women  do  exist  although  neither  you  nor  I 
have  seen  them.  This  may  possibly  be  vouchsafed 
you  ;    but  to  me — never  I  " 

He  was  now  standing  right  in  front  of  Romashov 
and  staring  him  straight  in  the  face,  but  by  the 
far-off  expression  in  his  eyes,  by  the  enigmatical 
smile  that  played  on  his  lips,  any  one  could  observe 
that  he  did  not  even  see  to  whom  he  was  talking. 
Never  had  Nasanski's  countenance — even  in  his 
better  and  sober  moments — seemed  to  Romashov  so 
attractive  and  interesting  as  at  this  instant.  His 
golden  hair  fell  in  luxuriant  curls  around  his  pure 
and  lofty  brow  ;  his  blond,  closely  chpped  beard 
was  curled  in  light  waves,  and  his  strong,  handsome 
head  on  his  bare,  classically  shaped  neck  reminded 
one  of  the  sages  and  heroes  of  Greece,  whose  busts 
Romashov  had  seen  in  engravings  and  at  museums. 
Nasanski's  bright,  clever  blue  eyes  glistened  with 
moisture,  and  his  well-formed  features  were  rendered 
still  more  engaging  by  the  fresh  colour  of  his  com- 
plexion, although  a  keen  eye  could  not,  I  daresay, 
avoid  noticing  a  certain  flabbiness — the  infallible 
mark  of  every  person  addicted  to  drink. 

"  Love — what  an  abyss  of  mystery  is  contained  in 
the  word,  and  what  bliss  lies  hiddeji  in  its  tortures  !  " 
Nasanski   went  on  to  say  in  an  enraptured   voice. 


THE    DUEL  75 

In  his  violent  excitement  he  caught  hold  of  his 
hair  with  both  hands,  and  took  two  hasty  strides 
towards  the  other  end  of  the  room,  but  suddenly 
stopped,  and  turned  round  sharply  to  Romashov 
with  a  merry  laugh.  The  latter  observed  him  with 
great  interest,  but  likewise  not  without  a  certain 
uneasiness . 

"  Just  this  moment  I  remember  an  amusing 
story  "  (Nasanski  now  dropped  into  his  usual  good- 
tempered  tone),  "  but,  ugh  !  how  my  wits  go  wool- 
gathering— now  here,  now  there.  Once  upon  a 
time  I  sat  waiting  for  the  train  at  Ryasan,  and 
wait  I  did — I  suppose  half  a  day,  for  it  was  right 
in  the  middle  of  the  spring  floods,  and  the 
train  had  met  with  real  obstacles.  Well,  you 
must  know,  I  bmlt  myself  a  little  nest  in  the 
waiting-room.  Behind  the  counter  stood  a  girl 
of  eighteen — not  pretty,  being  pockmarked,  but  brisk 
and  pleasant.  She  had  black  eyes  and  a  charming 
smile.  In  fact,  she  was  a  very  nice  girl.  We 
were  three,  all  told,  at  the  station  :  she,  I,  and 
a  little  telegraphist  with  white  eyebrows  and  eye- 
lashes. Ah  1  excuse  me,  there  was  another  person 
there — ^the  girl's  father,  a  fat,  red-faced,  grey-haired 
brute,  who  put  me  in  mind  of  a  rough  old  mastiff. 
But  this  attractive  figtire  kept  itself,  as  a  rule,  behind 
the  scenes.  Only  rarely  and  for  a  few  minutes  did 
he  put  in  an  appearance  behind  the  counter,  ,to 
yawn,  scratch  himself  under  his  waistcoat,  and 
immediately  afterwards  disappear  for  a  longish  time. 
He  spent  his  life  in  bed,  and  his  eyes  were  glued 
together  by  eternally  sleeping.  The  little  teleg- 
raphist paid  frequent  and  regular  visits  to  the 
waiting-room,  laid  his  elbows  on  the  counter,  but 
was,  for  the  most  part,  as  mute  as  the  grave. 
She,  too,  was  silent  and  looked  dreamily  out  of  the 

^      r^"*^    pr^-^    ^.....  . 


76  THE    DUEL 

window  at  the  floods.    All  of  a  sudden  our  youngster 
began  humming — 

" '  Love — love. 
What  is  love  ? 
Something  celestial 
That  drives  us  wild.' 

**  After  this,  again  silence.  A  pause  of  five 
minutes,  she  begins,  in  her  turn — 

"  '  Love — love. 

What  is  love  ? '  etc. 

"  Both  the  sentimental  words  as  well  as  the 
melody  were  taken  from  some  musty  old  operetta 
that  had  perhaps  been  performed  in  the  town,  and 
had  become  a  pleasant  recollection  to  both  the  young 
people.  Then  again  the  same  wistful  song  and 
significant  silence.  At  last  she  steals  softly  a  couple 
of  paces  to  the  window,  aU  the  while  keeping  one 
hand  on  the  counter.  Our  Celadon  quietly  lays 
hold  of  the  dehcate  fingers,  one  by  one,  and  with 
visible  trepidation  gazes  at  them  in  profound 
devotion.  And  again  the  motif  of  that  hackneyed 
operetta  is  heard  from  his  lips.  It  was  spring  with 
all  its  yearning.  Then  all  this  cloying  '  love  '  only 
awoke  in  me  nausea  and  disgust,  but,  since  then,  I 
have  often  thought  with  deep  emotion  of  the  vast 
amount  of  happiness  this  innocent  love-making 
could  bestow,  and  how  it  was  most  certainly  the 
only  ray  of  light  in  the  dreary  lives  of  these  two 
human  beings — lives,  very  likely,  even  more  empty 
and  barren  than  my  own.  But,  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Romashov  ;  why  should  I  bore  you  with  my  sUly, 
long-winded   stories?" 

Nasanski  again  betook  himself  to  the  little  cup- 


THE    DUEL  JJ 

board,  but  he  did  not  fetch  out  the  schnapps  bottle, 
but  stood  motionless  with  his  back  turned  to 
Romashov.  He  scratched  his  forehead,  pressed  his 
right  hand  lightly  to  his  temple,  and  maintained  this 
position  for  a  considerable  while,  evidently  a  prey  to 
conflicting   thoughts. 

"  You  were  speaking  of  women,  love,  abysses, 
mystery,  and  joy,"  remarked  Romashov,  by  way 
of  reminder. 

"  Yes,  love,"  cried  Nasanski  in  a  jubilant  voice. 
He  now  took  out  the  bottle,  poured  some  of  its 
contents  out,  and  drained  the  glass  quickly,  as  he 
turned  round  with  a  fierce  glance,  and  wiped  his 
mouth  with  his  shirt  sleeve.  "  Love  !  who  do 
you  suppose  understands  the  infinite  meaning  of 
this  holy  word  ?  And  yet — from  it  men  have  derived 
subjects  for  filthy,  rubbishy  operettas  ;  for  lewd 
pictures  and  statues,  shameless  stories  and  disgusting 
'rhymes.'  That  is  what  we  officers  do.  Yesterday 
I  had  a  visit  from  Ditz.  He  sat  where  you  are 
sitting  now.  He  toyed  with  his  gold  pince-nez 
and  talked  about  women.  Romashov,  my  friend, 
I  tell  you  that  if  an  animal,  a  dog,  for  instance, 
possessed  the  faculty  of  understanding  human 
speech,  and  had  happened  to  hear  what  Ditz  said 
yesterday,  it  would  have  fled  from  the  room 
ashamed.  Ditz,  as  you  know,  Romashov,  is  a  *  good 
fellow,'  and  even  the  others  are  '  good,'  for  really 
bad  people  do  not  exist  ;  but  for  fear  of  forfeiting 
his  reputation  as  a  cynic,  '  man  about  town,'  and 
'  lady-killer,'  he  dares  not  express  himself  about 
women  otherwise  than  he  does .  Amongst  our  yoimg 
men  there  is  a  luiiversal  confusion  of  ideas  that 
often  finds  expression  in  bragging  contempt,  and 
the  cause  of  this  is  that  the  great  majority  seek 
in  the   possession   of  women  only   coarse,   sensual^ 


78  THE    DUEL 

brutish  enjoyment,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  love 
becomes  to  them  only  something  contemptible, 
wanton — well,  I  don't  know,  damn  it  I  how  to 
express  exactly  what  I  mean — and,  when  the  animal 
instincts  are  satisfied,  coldness,  disgust,  and  enmity 
are  the  natural  result.  The  man  of  culture  has 
said  good-night  to  love,  just  as  he  has  done  to 
robbery  and  murder,  and  seems  to  reg'ard  it  only  as 
a  sort  of  snare  set  by  Nature  for  the  destruction 
of  humanity." 

"  That  is  the  truth  about  it,"  agreed  Romashov 
quietly  and  sadly. 

"  No,  that  is  not  true  I  "  shouted  Nasanski  in  a 
voice  of  thunder.  "  Yes,  I  say  it  once  more — it  is  a 
lie.  In  this,  as  in  everything  else.  Nature  has  re- 
vealed her  wisdom  and  ingenuity.  The  fact  is 
merely  that  whereas  Lieutenant  Ditz  finds  in  love  only 
brutal  enjoyment,  disgust,  and  surfeit,  Dante  finds 
in  it  beauty,  felicity,  and  harmony.  True  love  is  the 
heritage  of  the  elect,  and  to  understand  this  let  us 
take  another  simile.  All  mankind  has  an  ear  for 
music,  but,  in  the  case  of  millions,  this  is  developed 
about  as  much  as  in  stock-fish  or  Staff- Captain 
Vasilichenko.  Only  one  individual  in  all  these 
millions  is  a  Beethoven.  And  the  same  is  the  case 
in  everything — in  art,  science,  poetry.  And  so  far  as 
love  is  concerned,  I  tell  you  that  even  this  has  jts 
peaks  which  only  one  out  of  millions  is  able  to 
climb." 

He  walked  to  the  window,  and  leaned  his  forehead 
against  the  sill  where  Romashov  sat  gazing  out 
on  the  warm,  dark,  spring  night.  At  last  he  said 
in  a  voice  low,  but  vibrating  with  strong  inward 
excitement — 

'•  Oh,  if  we  could  see  and  grasp  Love's  innermost 
being,  its  9uj>ernatural  beauty  and  charm — we  gross. 


THE    DUEL  79 

blind  earth-worms  !  How  many  know  and  feel  what 
happiness,  what  delightful  tortures  exist  in  an  un- 
dying, hopeless  love  ?  I  remember,  when  I  was  a 
youth,  how  all  my  yearning  took  form  and  shape  in 
this  single  dream  :  to  fall  in  love  with  an  ideally 
beautiful  and  noble  woman  far  beyond  my  reach, 
and  standing  so  high  above  me  that  every  thought 
of  possessing  her  I  might  harbour  was  mad  and 
criminal  ;  to  consecrate  to  her  all  my  life,  all  my 
thoughts,  without  her  even  suspecting  it,  and  to 
carry  my  delightful,  torturing  secret  with  me  to  the 
grave.;  to  be  her  slave,  her  lackey,  her  protector, 
or  to  employ  a  thousand  arts  just  to  see  her  once  a 
year,  to  come  close  to  her,  and — oh,  maddening 
rapture  I — to  touch  the  hem  of  her  garment  or  kiss 

the  ground  on  which  she  had  walked " 

"  And   to  wind  up  in  a  mad-house,"   exclaimed 
Romashov  in  a  gloomy  tone, 

**  Oh,  my  dear  fellow,  what  does  that  matter?  " 
cried  Nasanski  passionately.  "  Perhaps — who  knows? 
— one  might  then  attain  to  that  state  of  bliss  one 
reads  of  in  stories.  Which  is  best — to  lose  your 
wits  through  a  love  which  can  never  be  realized, 
or,  like  Ditz,  to  go  stark  mad  from  shameful,  in- 
curable diseases  or  slow  paralysis  ?  Just  think  what 
felicity — to  stand  all  night  in  front  of  her  window 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  Look,  there's  a 
shadow  visible  behind  the  drawn  curtain — can  it 
be  she?  What's  she  doing?  What's  she  thinking, 
of?  The  light  is  lowered — sleep,  my  beloved,  sleep 
in  peace,  for  Love  is  keeping  vigil.  Days,  months, 
years  pass  awayj;  the  moment  at  last  arrives  when 
Chance,  perhaps,  bestows  on  you  her  glove,  handker- 
chief, the  concert  programme  she  has  thrown  away. 
She  is  not  acquainted  with  you,  does  not  even  know 
that  you  exist.     Her  glance  passes  over  you  without 


8o  THE    DUEL 

seeing  you  ;  but  there  you  stand  with  the  same 
unchangeable,  idolatrous  adoration,  ready  to  sacrifice 
yourself  for  her — nay,  even  for  her  slightest  whim, 
for  her  husband,  lover,  her  pet  dog,  to  sacrifice 
life,  honour,  and  all  that  you  hold  dear.  Romashov, 
a  bliss  such  as  this  can  never  fall  to  the  lot  of  our 
Don  Juans  and  lady-killers." 

"  Ah,  how  true  this  is  I  how  splendidly  you 
speak  !  "  cried  Romashov,  carried  away  by  Nasanski's 
passionate  words  and  gestures.  Long  before  this 
he  had  got  up  from  the  window,  and  now  he  was 
walking,  like  his  eccentric  host,  up  and  down  the 
long,  narrow  room,  pacing  the  floor  with  long,  quick 
strides.  "  Listen,  Nasanski.  I  will  tell  you  some- 
thing— about  myself.  Once  upon  a  time  I  fell  in 
love  with  a  woman — oh,  not  ^ere  ;  no,  in  Moscow. 
I  was  then  a  mere  stripling.  Ah,  well,  she  had  no 
inkling  of  it,  and  it  was  enough  for  me  to  be  allowed 
to  sit  near  her  when  she  sewed,  and  to  draw 
quietly  and  imperceptibly,  the  threads  towards  me. 
That  was  all,  and  she  noticed  nothing  ;  but  it  was 
enough  to  turn  my  head  with  joy." 

"  Ah,  yes,  how  well  I  understand  this  1  "  replied 
Nasanski  with  a  friendly  smile,  nodding  his  head  all 
the  time.  "  A  delicate  white  thread  charged  with 
electrical  currents.  What  a  store  of  poetry  is  en- 
shrined in  that  !  My  dear  fellow,  life  is  so 
beautiful  !  " 

Nasanski,  absorbed  in  profound  reverie,  grew 
silent,  and  his  blue  eyes  were  bright  with  tears. 
Romashov  also  felt  touched,  and  there  was  some- 
thing nervous,  hysterical,  and  spontaneous  about  this 
melancholy  of  his,  but  these  expressions  of  pity 
were  not  only  for  Nasanski,  but  himself. 

"  Vasili  Nilich,  I  admire  you,"  cried  he  as  he 
grasped  and  warmly  pressed  both  Nasanski's  hands. 


THE    DUEL  8i 

"  But  how  can  so  gifted,  far-sighted,  and  wideawake 
a  man  as  you  rush,  with  his  eyes  open,  to  his  own 
destruction?  But  I  am  the  last  person  on  earth  who 
ought  to  read  you  a  lesson  on  morals.  Only  one 
more  question  :  supposing  in  the  course  of  your  life 
you    happened   to   meet   a  woman    worthy   of   you, 

and  capable  of  appreciating  you,  would  you  then ? 

I've  thought  of  this  so  often." 

Nasanski  stopped  and  stared  for  a  long  time 
through  the  open  window. 

"  A  woman "  he  uttered  the  word  slowly  and 

dreamily.  "  I'll  tell  you  a  story,"  he  continued 
suddenly  and  in  an  energetic  tone.  "  Once  in  my 
life  I  met  an  exceptional — ah  I  wonderful — woman, 
a  young  girl,  but  as  Heine  somewhere  says  :  *  She 
was  worthy  of  being  loved,  and  he  loved  her  ;  but 
he  was  not  worthy,  and  she  did  not  love  him.'  Her 
love  waned  because  I  drank,  or  perhaps  it  was  I 
drank  because  she  did  not  love  me.  She — by  the 
way,  it  was  not  here  that  this  happened.  It  was  a 
long  time  ago,  and  you  possibly  know  that  I  first 
served  in  the  infantry  for  three  years,  after  that 
for  four  years  with  the  reserves,  and  for  a  second 
time,  three  years  ago,  I  came  here.  Well,  to 
continue,  between  her  and  me  there  was  no  romance 
whatever.  We  met  and  had  five  or  six  chats 
together — that  was  all.  But  have  you  ever  thought 
what  an  irresistible,  bewitching  might  there  is  in  the 
past,  in  our  recollections  ?  The  memory  of  these 
few  insignificant  episodes  of  my  life  constitutes  the 
whole  of  my  wealth'.  I  love  her  even  to  this  very 
day.  Wait,  Romashov,  you  deserve  to  hear  it — I 
will  read  out  to  you  the  first  and  only  letter  I  ever 
received  from  her."  He  crouched  down  before  the 
old  trunk,  opened  it,  and  began  rummaging  im- 
patiently among  a  mass  of  old  papers,  during  which 

6 


82  THE    DUEL 

he  kept  on  talking.  "  I  know  she  never  loved  any 
one  but  herself.  There  was  a  depth  of  pride,  im- 
periousness,  even  cruelty  about  her,  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  she  was  so  good,  so  genuinely  womanly,  so 
infinitely  pleasant  and  lovable.  She  had  two 
natures — the  one  egoistical  and  calculating,  the  other 
all  heart  and  passionate  tenderness.  See  here,  I 
have  it.  Read  it  now,  Romashov.  The  beginning 
will  not  interest  you  much  "  (Nasanski  turned  over 
a  few  lines  of  the  letter),  "  but  read  from  here  ; 
read  it  all." 

Romashov  felt  as  if  some  one  had  struck  him  a 
stunning  blow  on  the  head,  and  the  whole  room 
seemed  to  dance  before  his  eyes,  for  the  letter  was 
written  in  a  large  but  nervous  and  compressed  hand, 
that  could  only  belong  to  Alexandra  Petrovna — 
quaint,  irregular,  but  by  no  means  unsympathetic. 
Romashov,  who  had  often  received  cards  from  her 
with  invitations  to  small  dinners  and  card  parties, 
recognized  this  hand  at  once. 

"It  is  a  bitter  and  hard  task  for  me  to  write 
this,"  read  Romashov  under  Nasanski 's  hand  ;  "  but 
only  you  yourself  are  to  blame  for  our  acquaintance 
coming  to  this  tragic  end.  Lying  I  abominate 
more  than  anything  else  in  life.  It  always  springs 
from  cowardice  and  weakness,  and  this  is  the  reason 
why  I  shall  also  tell  you  the  whole  truth.  I  loved 
you  up  to  now  ;  yes,  I  love  you  even  now,  and  I 
know  it  will  prove  very  hard  for  me  to  master  this 
feeling.  But  I  also  know  that,  in  the  end,  I  shall 
gain  the  victory.  What  do  you  suppose  our  lot 
would  be  if  I  acted  otherwise  ?  I  confess  I  lack  the 
energy  and  self-denial  requisite  for  becoming  the 
housekeeper,  nurse-girl,  or  sister  of  mercy  to  a 
weakling  with  no  will  of  his  own.  I  loathe  above 
everything  self-sacrifice  and  pity  for  others,  and  I 


THE    DUEL  83 

shall  let  neither  you  nor  any  one  else  excite  these 
feelings  in  me.  I  will  not  have  a  husband  who 
would  only  be  a  dog  at  my  feet,  incessantly  craving 
alms  or  proofs  of  affection.  And  you  would'  never  be 
anything  else,  in  spite  of  your  extraordinary  talents 
and  noble  qualities.  Tell  me  now,  with  your  hand 
upon  your  heart,  if  you  are  capable  of  it.  Alas  I  my 
dear  Vasili  Nilich,  if  you  could.  All  my  heart,  all 
my  life  yearns  for  you.  I  love  you.  What  is  the 
obstacle,  then?  No  one  but  yourself.  For  a  pyerson 
one  loves,  one  can,  you  know,  sacrifice  the  whole 
world,  and  now  I  ask  of  you  only  this  one  thing  ; 
but  can  you  ?  No,  you  cannot,  and  now  I  bid  you 
good-bye  for  ever.  In  thought  I  kiss  you  on  your 
forehead  as  one  kisses  a  corpse,  and  you  are  dead 
to  me — for  ever.  I  advise  you  to  destroy  this  letter, 
not  that  I  blush  for  or  fear  its  contents,  but  because 
I  think  it  will  be  a  source  to  you  of  tormenting, 
recollections.     I  repeat  once  more " 

"  The  rest  is  of  little  interest  to  you,"  said 
Nasanski  abruptly,  as  he  took  the  letter  from 
Romashov's  hand.  "  This,  as  I  have  just  told  you, 
was  (her  only  letter  to  me." 

"What  happened  afterwards?"  stammered 
Romashov  awkwardly. 

"  Afterwards  ?  We  never  saw  one  another  after- 
wards. She  went  her  way  and  is  reported  to  have 
married  an  engineer.  That,  however,  is  another 
matter." 

"And   you  never  visit  Alexandra  Petrovna?" 

Romashov  uttered  these  words  in  a  whisper,  but 
both  officers  started  at  the  sound  of  them,  and  gazed 
at  each  other  a  long  time  without  speaking.  During 
these  few  seconds  all  the  barriers  raised  by  human 
guile  and  hypocrisy  fell  away,  and  the  two  men  read 
each  other's  soul  as  an  open  bQok.     Hundreds  of 


84  THE    DUEL 

things  that  had  hitherto  been  for  them  a  profound 
secret  stood  before  them  that  moment  in  dazzling 
light,  and  the  whole  of  the  conversation  that  evening 
suddenly  took  a  i>eculiar,  deep,  nay,  almost  tragic, 
significance. 

"What?  you  too?"  exclaimed  Nasanski  at  last, 
with  an  expression  bordering  on  fear  in  his  eyes,  but 
he  quickly  regained  his  composure  and  exclaimed 
with  a  laugh,  "  Ugh  1  what  a  misunderstanding  ! 
We  were  discussing  something  quite  different.  That 
letter  which  you  have  just  read  was  written  hundreds 
of  years  ago,  and  the  woman  in  question  lived  in 
Transcaucasia.     But  where  was  it  we  left  off?  " 

"  It  is  late,  Vasili  Nilich,  and  time  to  say  good- 
night,"   replied   Romashov,    rising. 

Nasanski  did  not  try  to  keep  him.  They  separated 
neither  in  a  cold  or  unfriendly  way,  but  they  were, 
as  it  seemed,  ashamed  of  each  other.  Romashov 
was  now  more  convinced  than  ever  that  the  letter 
was  from  Shurochka.  During  the  whole  of  his 
way  home  he  thought  of  nothing  except  this  letter, 
but  he  could  not  make  out  what  feelings  it  aroused 
in  him.  They  were  a  mingling  of  jealousy  of 
Nasanski — jealousy  on  account  of  what  had  been — 
but  also  a  certain  exultant  pity  for  Nasanski,  and 
in  himself  there  awoke  new  hopes,  dim  and  in- 
definite, but  delicious  and  alluring.  It  was  as  if  this 
letter  had  put  into  his  hand  a  mysterious,  invisible 
clue  that  was  leading  him  into  the  future. 

The  breeze  had  subsided.  The  tepid  night's 
intense  darkness  and  silence  reminded  one  of  soft, 
warm  velvet.  One  felt,  as  it  were,  life's  mystic 
creative  force  in  the  never-slumbering  air,  in  the 
dumb  stillness  of  the  invisible  trees,  in  the  smell  of 
the  earth.  Romashov  walked  without  seeing  which 
way  he  went,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  felt  the 


THE    DUEL  85 

hot  breath  of  something  strong  and  powerful,  but, 
at  the  same  time,  sweet  and  caressing.  His  thoughts 
went  back  with  dull,  harrowing  pain  to  bygone  happy 
springs  that  would  never  more  return — to  the 
blissful,  innocent  days  of  his  childhood. 

When  he  reached  home  he  found  on  the  table 
another  letter  from  Raisa  Alexandrovna  Peterson, 
In  her  usual  bad  taste  she  complained,  in  turgid, 
extravagant  terms,  of  his  "  deceitful  conduct  "  to- 
wards her.  She  "  now  understood  everything,"  and 
the  "  injured  woman  "  within  her  invoked  on  him 
all  the  i>erils  of  hatred  and  revenge. 

Now  I  know  what  I  have  to  do  (the  letter  ran).  If  I  survive  the 
sorrow  and  pain  of  your  abominable  conduct,  you  may  be  quite 
certain  I  shall  cruelly  avenge  this  insult.  You  seem  to  think  that 
nobody  knows  where  you  are  in  the  habit  of  spending  your  evenings. 
You  are  watched  1  and  even  walls  have  ears.  Every  step  you  take  is 
known  to  me.  But  all  the  same,  you  will  never  get  anything  there 
with  all  your  soft,  pretty  speeches,  unless  N.  flings  you  downstairs 
like  a  puppy.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  you  will  be  wise  not  to  lull 
yourself  into  fancied  security.  I  am  not  one  of  those  women  who  let 
themselves  be  insulted  with  impunity. 

A  Caucasian  woman  am  I 

Who  knows  how  to  handle  a  knife. 

—Once  yours,  now  nobody's, 

Raisa. 

PS. — I  command  you  to  meet  me  at  the  soiree  on  Saturday  and 
explain  your  conduct.  The  third  quadrille  will  be  kept  for  you  ;  but 
mind,  there  is  no  special  importance  now  in  that 

R.  P. 

To  Romashov  this  ill-spelled,  ungrammatical  letter 
was  a  breath  of  the  stupidity,  meanness,  and  spiteful 
tittle-tattle  of  a  provincial  town.  He  felt  for  ever 
soiled  from  head  to  foot  by  this  disgusting  liaison, 
scarcely  of  six  months'  standing,  with  a  woman  he 


86  THE    DUEL 

had  never  loved.  He  threw  himself  on  his  bed 
with  an  indescribable  feeling  of  depression.  He 
even  felt  as  if  he  were  torn  to  tatters  by  the  events 
of  the  day,  and  he  involuntarily  called  to  mind 
Nasanski's  words  that  very  night  :  "  his  thoughts 
were  as  grey  as  a  soldier's  cloak." 

He  soon  fell  into  a  deep,  heavy  sleep.  As  he 
had  always  done  of  late,  when  he  had  had  bitter 
moments,  he  saw  himself,  even  now  in  his  dreams, 
as  a  little  child.  There  were  no  impure  impulses 
in  him,  no  sense  of  something  lacking,  no  weariness 
of  life  ;  his  body  was  light  and  healthy,  and  his 
soul  was  luminous  and  full  of  joy  and  hope  ;  and 
in  this  world  of  radiance  and  happiness  he  saw 
dear  old  Moscow's  streets  in  the  dazzling  brightness 
that  is  presented  to  the  eyes  in  dreamland.  But 
far  away  by  the  horizon,  at  the  very  verge  of  this 
sky  that  was  saturated  with  light,  there  arose  quickly 
and  threateningly  a  dark,  ill-boding  wall  of  cloud, 
behind  which  was  hidden  a  horrible  provincial  hole 
of  a  place  with  cruel  and  unbearable  slavery,  drills, 
recruit  schools,  drinking,  false  friends,  and  utterly 
corrupt  women.  His  life  was  nothing  but  joy  and 
gladness,  but  the  dark  cloud  was  waiting  patiently 
for  the  moment  when  it  was  to  fold  him  an  its 
deadly  embrace.  And  it  so  happened  that  little 
Romashov,  amidst  his  childish  babble  and  innocent 
dreams,  bewailed  in  silence  the  fate  of  his 
"double." 

He  awoke  in  the  middle  of  the  ni^ht,  and  noticed 
that  his  pillow  was  wet  with  tears.  Then  he  wept 
afresh,  and  the  warm  tears  again  ran  down  his 
cheeks  in  rapid  streams. 


VI 

With  the  exception  of  a  few  ambitious  men  bent 
on  making  a  career  for  themselves,  all  the  officers 
regarded  the  service  as  an  intolerable  slavery  to 
which  they  must  needs  submit.  The  younger  of 
them  behaved  like  veritable  schoolboys  ;  they  came 
late  to  the  drills,  and  wriggled  away  from  them 
as  soon  as  possible,  provided  that  could  be  done 
without  risk  of  serious  consequences  to  themselves 
afterwards.  The  captains,  who,  as  a  rule,  were 
burdened  with  large  families,  were  immersed  in 
household  cares,  scandals,  money  troubles,  and  were 
worried  the  whole  year  through  with  loans, 
promissory  notes,  and  other  methods  of  raising  the 
wind.  Many  ventured — often  at  the  instigation  of 
their  wives — secretly  to  divert  to  their  own  purposes 
the  moneys  belonging  to  the  regiment  and  the 
soldiers'  pay — nay,  they  even  went  so  far  as 
"  officially  "  to  Avithhold  their  men's  private  letters 
when  the  latter  were  found  to  contain  money.  Some 
lived  by  gambling — vint,  schtoss,  lansquenet — and 
certain  rather  ugly  stories  were  told  in  connection 
with  this — stories  which  high  authorities  had  a  good 
deal  of  trouble  to  suppress.  In  addition  to  all 
this,  heavy  drinking,  both  at  mess  and  in  their 
own  homes,  was  widespread  amongst  the  officers. 
With  regard  to  the  officers'  sense  of  duty,  that, 
too,  was,  as  a  rule,  altogether  lacking.  The  non- 
87 


88  THE    DUEL 

commissioned  officers  did  all  the  work  ;  the  pay- 
sergeants  set  in  motion  and  regulated  the  inner 
mechanism  of  the  company,  and  were  held  re- 
sponsible for  the  despatch  of  it  ;  hence  very  soon, 
and  quite  imperceptibly,  the  commander  became  a 
mere  marionette  in  the  coarse,  experienced  hands 
of  his  subordinates.  The  senior  officers,  moreover, 
regarded  the  exercises  of  the  troops  with  the  same 
aversion  as  did  their  junior  comrades,  and  if  at 
any  time  they  displayed  their  zeal  by  punishing 
an  ensign,  they  only  did  it  to  gain  prestige  or — 
which  was  more  seldom  the  case — to  satisfy  their 
lust  of  power  or  desire  for  revenge. 

Captains  of  brigades  and  battalions  had,  as  a  rule, 
absolutely  nothing  to  do  in  the  winter.  During 
the  summer  it  was  their  duty  to  inspect  the  exercises 
of  the  battalion,  to  assist  at  those  of  the  regiment 
and  division,  and  to  undergo  the  hardships  of  the 
field-manoeuvres.  During  their  long  freedom  from 
duty  they  used  to  sit  continually  in  their  mess-room, 
eagerly  studying  the  Russki  Invalid,^  and  savagely 
criticizing  all  new  appointments  ;  but  cards  were, 
however,  their  alpha  and  omega,  and  they  most 
readily  permitted  their  juniors  to  be  their  hosts, 
though  they  but  very  rarely  exercised  a  cautious 
hospitality  in  their  own  homes,  and  then  only  with 
the  object  of  getting  their  numerous  daughters 
married . 

But  when  the  time  for  the  great  review 
approached,  it  was  quite  another  tune.  All,  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest,  were  seized  by  a  sort 
of  madness.  There  was  no  talk  of  peace  and  quiet 
then  ;  every  one  tried,  by  additional  hours  of  drill 
and  an  almost  maniacal  activity,  to  make  up  for 
previous  negligence.  The  soldiers  were  treated  with 
'  The  official  newspaper  of  the  Russian  Army. 


THE    DUEL  89 

the  most  heartless  cruelty,  and  overtaxed  to  the 
last  degree  of  sheer  exhaustion.  Every  one  was 
tyrant  over  some  wretch  ;  the  company  commanders^ 
with  endless  curses,  threatened  their  "  incompetent  " 
subalterns,  and  the  latter,  in  turn,  poured  the  vials 
of  their  wrath  over  the  "  non-coms.,"  and  the  "  non- 
coms.,"  hoarse  with  shouting  orders,  oaths,  and  the 
most  frightful  insults,  struck  and  misused  the  soldiers 
in  the  most  ferocious  manner.  The  whole  camp 
and  parade-ground  were  changed  into  a  hell^  and 
Sundays,  with  their  indispensable  rest  and  peace, 
loomed  like  a  heavenly  paradise  in  the  eyes  of  the 
poor  tortured  recruits. 

This  spring  the  regiment  was  preparing  for  the 
great  May  parade.  It  was  at  this  time  common 
knowledge  that  the  review  was  to  take  place  before 
the  commander  of  the  corps — a  strict  old  veteran, 
known  throughout  military  literature  by  his  works 
on  the  Carlist  War  and  the  Franco-German  Cam- 
paign of  1870,  in  which  he  took  part  as  a  volunteer. 
Besides,  he  was  known  throughout  the  kingdom 
for  his  eccentric  general  orders  and  manifestoes 
that  were  invariably  couched  in  a  lapidary  style  a  la 
Sav6roff.  The  reckless,  sharp,  and  coarse  sarcasm 
he  always  infused  into  his  criticism  was  feared  by 
the  officers  more  than  even  the  severest  disciplinary 
punishment . 

It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  for  a  fortnight 
the  whole  regiment  worked  with  feverish  energy,  and 
Sunday  was  no  less  longed  for  by  the  utterly  worn- 
out  officers  than  by  the  men,  who  were  well-nigh 
tortured   to    death . 

But  to  Romashov,  who  sat  idle  under  arrest, 
Sunday  brought  neither  joy  nor  repose.  As  he 
had  tried  in  vain  to  sleep  during  the  night,  he 
got  up  early,  dressed  slowly  and  unwillingly,  drank 


90  THE    DUEL 

his  tea  with  undisguised  repugnance,  and  refreshed 
himself  at  last  by  hurling  a  few  insults  at  Haindn, 
who  did  not  heed  them  in  the  least,  but  continued 
to  stalk  about  the  room  as  happy,  active,  ^nd  clumsy 
as  a  puppy. 

Romashov  sauntered  up  and  down  his  narrow 
room  in  his  unbuttoned^  carelessly  donned  undress 
uniform.  Now  he  bumped  his  knee  against  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  now  his  elbow  against  the  rickety  book- 
case. It  was  the  first  time  now  for  half  a  year — 
thanks  to  a  somewhat  unpleasant  accident — that  he 
found  himself  alone  in  his  own  abode.  He  had 
always  been  occupied  with  drill,  sentry  duty,  card- 
playing,  and  libations  to  Bacchus,  dancing  atten- 
dance on  the  Peterson  woman,  and  evening  calls 
on  the  Nikolaievs.  Sometimes,  if  he  happened  to 
be  free  and  had  nothing  particular  in  view, 
Romashov  might,  if  worried  by  moping  and  lazi- 
ness, and  as  if  he  feared  his  own  company,  rush 
aimlessly  off  to  the  club,  or  some  acquaintance,  or 
simply  to  the  street,  in  hopes  of  finding  some 
bachelor  comrade — a  meeting  which  infallibly  ended 
with  a  drinking-bout  in  the  mess-room.  Now  he 
contemplated  with  dread  the  long,  unendurable  day 
of  loneliness  and  boredom  before  him,  and  a  crowd 
of  stupid,  extraordinary  fancies  and  projects  buzzed 
in  his  brain. 

The  bells  in  the  town  were  ringing  for  High 
Mass.  Through  the  inner  window,  which  had  not 
been  removed  since  the  winter  began,  forced  their 
way  into  the  room  these  trembling  tones  that  were 
produced,  as  it  were,  one  from  the  other,  and  in 
the  melancholy  clang  of  which,  on  this  sentimental 
spring  morning,  there  lay  a  peculiar  power  of 
charm.  Immediately  outside  Romashov 's  window  lay 
a  garden  in  which  n^any  cherry-trees  grew  in  rich 


THE    DUEL  91 

abundance,  all  white  with  blooms,  and  all  soft 
and  round  as  a  flock  of  snow-white  sheep  whose 
wool  was  fine.  Between  them,  here  and  there, 
arose  slim  but  gigantic  poplars  that  stretched  their 
boughs  beseechingly  towards  heaven,  and  ancient, 
venerable  chestnut -trees  with  their  dome -like  crests. 
The  trees  were  still  bare,  with  black,  naked  boughs, 
but  on  these,  though  the  eye  could  hardly  discern 
them,  the  first  yellowish  verdure,  fresh  as  the  dew, 
began  to  be  visible.  In  the  pure,  moisture -laden 
air  of  the  newly -awakened  spring  day,  the  trees 
rocked  softly  here  and  there  before  the  cool,  sportive 
breezes  that  murmured  from  time  to  time  among  the 
flowers,  and  bowed  them  to  the  ground  with  a 
rogiiish   kiss. 

From  the  windows  one  could  discern,  on  the  left, 
through  a  gateway,  a  part  of  the  dirty  street,  which 
on  one  side  was  fenced  off.  People  passed  along- 
side of  the  fence  from  time  to  time,  walking  slowly 
as  they  picked  out  a  dry  place  for  their  next  step. 
"  Lucky  people,"  thought  Romashov,  as  he  enviously 
followed  them  with  his  eyes,  "  they  need  not  hurry. 
They  have  the  whole  of  the  long  day  before  then! — 
ah  !    a  whole,  free,  glorious  day." 

And  suddenly  there  came  over  him  a  longing 
for  freedom  so  intense  and  passionate  that  tears 
rushed  to  his  eyes,  and  he  had  great  difficulty  in 
restraining  himself  from  running  out  of  the  house. 
Now,  however,  it  was  not  the  mess-room  that 
attracted  him,  but  only  the  yard,  the  street^  fresh  air. 
It  was  as  if  he  had  never  understood  before  what 
freedom  was,  and  he  was  astonished  at  the  amount 
of  happiness  that  is  comprised  in  the  simple  fact 
that  one  may  go  where  one  pleases,  turn  into  this 
or  that  street,  stop  in  the  middle  of  the  square,  peep 
into   a  half -opened   church  door,   etc,,  etc.^   all  ^t 


92  THE    DUEL 

one's  own  sweet  will  and  without  having'  to  fear 
the  consequences.  The  right  to  do,  and  the  possi- 
bility of  doing,  all  this  would  be  enough  to  fill 
a  man's  heart  with  an  exultant  sense  of  joy  and 
bliss . 

He  remembered  in  connection  with  this  hoWj  in 
his  earliest  youth,  long  before  he  entered  the  Cadet 
School,  his  mother  used  to  punish  him  by  tying 
him  tightly  to  the  foot  of  the  bed  with  fine  thread, 
after  which  she  left  him  by  himself  ;  and  little 
Romashov  sat  for  whole  hours  submissively  still. 
But  never  for  an  instant  did  it  occur  to  him  to  flee 
from  the  house,  although,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, he  never  stood  on  ceremony — for  instance, 
to  slide  down  the  water-pipe  from  other  storys  to 
the  street  ;  to  dangle,  without  permission,  after  a 
military  band  or  a  funeral  procession  as  far  as  the 
outskirts  of  Moscow  ;  or  to  steal  from  his  mother 
lumps  of  sugar,  jam,  and  cigarettes  for  older  play- 
fellows, etc.  But  this  brittle  thread  exercised  a 
remarkable  hypnotizing  influence  on  his  mind  as 
a  child.  He  was  even  afraid  of  breaking  it  by 
some  sudden,  incautious  movement.  In  that  case  he 
was  influenced  by  no  fear  whatsoever  of  punishment, 
neither  by  a  sense  of  duty,  nor  by  regret,  but  by 
pure  hypnosis,  a  superstitious  dread  of  the  un- 
fathomable power  and  superiority  of  grown-up  or 
older  persons,  which  reminds  one  of  the  savage 
who,  paralysed  by  fright,  dares  not  take  a  step 
beyond  the  magic  circle  that  the  conjurer  has  drawn. 

"  And  here  I  am  sitting  now  like  a  schoolboy, 
like  a  little  helpless,  mischievous  brat  tied  by  the 
leg,"  thought  Romashov  as  he  slouched  backwards 
and  forwards  in  his  room.  "  The  door  is  open,  I 
can  go  when  I  please,  can  do  what  I  please,  can 
talk  and  laugh — but   I  am  kept  back  by  a  thread. 


THE    DUEL  93 

/  sit  here  ;  /  and  nobody  else.  Some  one  has 
ordered  me  to  sit  here,  and  I  shall  sit  here  ;  but 
who  has  authorized  him  to  order  this?  Certainly 
not  /. 

"  I  " — Romashov  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
with  his  legs  straddling  and  his  head  hanging  down, 
thinking  deeply.  " /,  /,  // "  he  shouted  in  a  loud 
voice,  in  which  there  lay  a  certain  note  of  astonish- 
ment, as  if  he  now  was  first  beginning  to  compre- 
hend the  meaning  of  this  short  word.  "Who  is 
standing  here  and  gaping  at  that  black  crack  in  the 
floor  ? — Is  it  really  I  ?  How  curious — I  " — he  paused 
slowly  and  with  emphasis  on  the  monosyllable,  just 
as  if  it  were  only  by  such  means  that  he  Could 
grasp   its  significance. 

He  smiled  unnaturally  ;  but,  in  the  next  instant, 
he  frowned,  and  turned  pale  with  emotion  and  strain 
of  thought.  Such  small  crises  had  not  infrequently 
happened  to  him  during  the  last  five  or  six  years, 
as  is  nearly  always  the  case  with  young  people 
during  that  period  of  life  when  the  mind  is  in 
course  of  development.  A  simple  truth,  a  saying, 
a  common  phrase,  with  the  meaning  of  which  he 
has  long  ago  been  familiar,  suddenly,  by  some 
mysterious  impulse  from  within,  stands  in  a  new 
light,  and  so  receives  a  particular  philosophical 
meaning.  Romashov  could  still  remember  the  first 
time  this  happened  to  him.  It  was  at  school  during 
a  catechism  lesson,  when  the  priest  tried  to  explain 
the  parable  of  the  labourers  who  carried  away  stones. 
One  of  them  began  with  the  light  stones,  and  after- 
wards took  the  heavier  ones,  but  when  at  last  he 
came  to  the  very  heaviest  of  all  his  strength  iwas 
exhausted.  The  other  worked  according  to  a 
diametrically  different  plan,  and  luckily  fulfilled  his 
duty.     To  Romashov  was  oj>ened  the  whole  abyss 


94  THE    DUEL 

of  practical  wisdom  that  lay  hidden  in  this  simple 
picture  that  he  had  known  and  understood  ever 
since  he  could  read  a  book.  Likewise  with  the  old 
saying  :  *  ■  Seven  times  shalt  thou  measure,  once 
shalt  thou  cut."  In  a  happy  moment  he  suddenly 
perceived  the  full,  deep  import  of  this  maxim  ; 
wisdom,  understanding,  wise  economy,  calculation. 
A  tremendous  experience  of  life  lay  concealed  in 
these  few  words.  Such  was  the  case  now.  All  his 
mental  individuality  stood  suddenly  before  him  with 
the  distinctness  of  a  lightning  flash. 

"  My  Ego,"  thought  Romashov,  "  is  only  that 
which  is  within  me,  the  very  kernel  of  my  being  ; 
all  the  rest  is  the  non-Ego — that  is,  only  secondary 
things.  This  room,  street,  trees,  sky,  the  com- 
mander of  my  regiment.  Lieutenant  Andrusevich, 
the  service,  the  standard,  the  soldiers — all  this  is 
non-Ego.  No,  no,  this  is  non-Ego — my  hands  and 
feet."  Romashov  lifted  up  his  hands  to  the  level 
of  his  face,  and  looked  at  them  with  wonder  and 
curiosity,  as  if  he  saw  them  now  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life.  "  No,  all  this  is  non-Ego.  But  look — I 
pinch  my  arm — that  is  the  Ego.  I  see  my  arm, 
I  lift  it  up — this  is  the  Ego.  And  what  I  am 
thinking  now  is  also  Ego.  If  I  now  want  to  go  my 
way,  that  is  the  Ego.  And  even  if  I  stop,  that 
is  the  Ego. 

"  Oh,  how  wonderful,  how  mysterious  is  this. 
And  so  simple  too.  Is  it  true  that  all  individuals 
possess  a  similar  Ego  ?  Perhaps  it  is  only  I  who 
have  it?  Or  perhaps  nobody  has  it.  Down  there 
hundreds  of  soldiers  stand  drawn  up  in  front  of  me. 
I  give  the  order  :  '  Eyes  to  the  right,'  to  hundreds 
of  human  beings  who  has  each  his  own  Ego,  and 
who  see  in  me  something  foreign,  distant,  i.e.  non- 
Ego — then  turn  their  heads   at   once v to   the   right. 


THE    DUEL  95 

But  I  do  not  distinguish  one  from  the  other  ;  they 
are  to  me  merely  a  mass.  And  to  Colonel  Schul- 
govich  both  I  and  Viatkin  and  Lbov,  and  all  the 
captains  and  Heutenants,  are  likewise  perhaps  merely 
a  *  mass,'  viz.,  he  does  not  distinguish  one  of  us 
from  the  other,  or,  in  other  words,  we  are  entirely 
outside  his  ken  as  individuals  to  him." 

The  door  was  opened,  and  Haindn  stole  into  the 
room.  He  began  at  once  his  usual  dance,  threw 
up  his  legs  into  the  air,  rocked  his  shoulders,  and 
shouted — 

"  Your  Honour,  I  got  no  cigarettes.  They  said 
that  Lieutenant  Skriabin  gave  orders  that  you  were 
not  to  have  any  more  on  credit." 

"  Oh,  damn  I  You  can  go,  Hainan.  What  am 
I  to  do  without  cigarettes  ?  However,  it  is  of  no 
consequence.     You  can  go,   Haindn." 

"What  was  it  I  was  thinking  of?"  Romashov 
asked  himself,  when  he  was  once  more  alone.  He 
had  lost  the  threads,  and,  unaccustomed  as  he  was 
to  think,  he  could  not  pick  them  up  again  at  once. 
*'  What  was  I  thinking  of  just  now?  It  was  some- 
thing important  and  interesting.  Well,  let  us  turn 
back  and  take  the  questions  in  order.  Also,  I  am 
under  arrest  ;  out  in  the  street  I  see  people  at 
large  ;  my  mother  tied  me  up  with  a  thread — me^ 
jne.  Yes,  so  it  was.  The  soldier  perhaps  has  an 
Ego,  perhaps  even  Colonel  Shulgovich.  Ha,  he  I 
now  I  remember  ;  go  on.  Here  I  am  sitting  in 
my  room.  I  am  arrested,  but  my  door  is  open. 
I  want  to  go  out,  but  I  dare  not.  Why  do  I  not 
dare?  Have  I  committed  any  crime — theft — 
murder?  No.  AU  I  did  was  merely  omitting  to 
keep  my  heels  together  when  I  was  talking  to 
another  man.  Possibly  I  was  wrong.  Yet,  why? 
Is   it   anything   important?      Is   it   the   chief  thing 


96  THE    DUEL 

in  life?  In  about  twenty  or  thirty  years — a  second 
in  eternity — my  life,  my  Ego,  will  go  out  like  a 
lamp  does  when  one  turns  the  wick  down.  They 
will  light  life — the  lamp — afresh,  over  and  over 
again  ;  but  my  Ego  is  gone  for  ever.  Likewise 
this  room,  this  sky,  the  regiment,  the  whole  army, 
all  stars,  this,  dirty  globe,  my  hands  and  feet — all, 
all — shall  be  annihilated  for  ever.  Yes,  yes  ;  that 
is  so.  Well,  all  right — but  wait  a  bit.  I  must 
not  be  in  too  much  of  a  hurry.  I  shall  not  be  in 
existence.  Ah,  wait.  I  found  myself  in  infinite 
darkness.  Somebody  came  and  lighted  my  life's 
lamp,  but  almost  immediately  he  blew  it  out  again, 
and  once  more  I  was  in  darkness,  in  the  eternity  of 
eternities.  What  did  I  do?  What  did  I  utter 
during  this  short  moment  of  my  existence?  I  held 
my  thumb  on  the  seam  of  my  trousers  and  my  heels 
together.  1  shrieked  as  loud  as  I  could  :  '  Shoulder 
arms  I  *  and  immediately  afterwards  I  thundered 
'  Use  your  butt  ends,  you  donkeys  1  '  I  trembled 
before  a  hundred  tyrants,  now  miserable  ghosts 
in  eternity  like  my  own  remarkable,  lofty  Ego. 
But  why  did  I  tremble  before  those  ghosts 
and  why  could  they  compel  me  to  do  such  a  lot 
of  unnecessary,  idiotic,  unpleasant  things  ?  How 
could  they  venture  to  annoy  and  insult  my  Ego — 
these  miserable  spectres  ?  *' 

Romashov  sat  down  by  the  table,  put  his  elbows 
on  it,  and  leaned  his  head  on  his  hands.  It  was 
hard  work  for  him  to  keep  in  check  these  wild 
thoughts  which  raced  through  his  mind. 

"  H'm  1 — my  friend  Romashov,  what  a  lot  you 
have  forgotten — your  fatherland,  the  ashes  of  your 
sire,  the  altar  of  honour,  the  warrior's  oath  and  dis- 
cipline. Who  shall  preserve  the  land  of  your  sires 
when  the  ifoe  rushes  over  its  boundaries  ?    Ah  I   when 


THE    DUEL  97 

I  am  dead  there  will  be  no  more  fatherland,  no 
enemy,  no  honour.  They  will  disappear  at  the  same 
time  as  my  consciousness.  But  if  all  this  be  buried 
and  brought  to  naught — country,  enemies,  honour, 
and  all  the  other  big  words — what  has  all  this  to 
do  with  my  Ego  ?  I  am  more  important  than  aU 
these  phrases  about  duty,  hon,our,  love,  etc.  Assume 
that  I  am  a  soldier  and  my  Ego  suddenly  says, 
'  I  won't  fight,'  and  not  only  my  own  Ego,  but 
milhons  of  other  Egos  that  constitute  the  whole  of 
the  army,  the  whole  of  Russia,  the  entire  world  ;  all 
these  say,  *  We  won't  I  '  Then  it  will  be  all  over 
so  far  as  war  is  concerned,  and  never  again  will 
any  one  have  to  hear  such  absurdities  as  '  Open 
order,'  '  Shoulder  arms,'  and  all  the  rest  of  that 
nonsense. 

"  Well,  weU,  well.  It  must  be  so  some  day," 
shouted  an  exultant  voice  in  Romashov.  "  All  that 
talk  about  '  warlike  deeds,*  '  discipline,'  '  honour  of 
the  uniform,^  *  respect  for  superiors,'  and,  first  and 
last,  the  whole  science  of  war  exists  only  because 
humanity  will  not,  or  cannot,  or  dare  not,  say,  '  I 
won't.'  " 

"  What  do  you  suppose  aU  this  cunningly  reared 
edifice  that  is  called  the  profession  of  arms  reaUy 
is  ?  Nothing,  humbug,  a  house  hanging  in  mid- 
air, which  will  tumble  down  directly  mankind  pro- 
nounces three  short  words  :  *  I  will  not.'  My  Ego 
will  never  say,  '  I  will  not  eat,'  '  I  wiU  not  breathe,* 
'  I  will  not  see.'  But  if  any  one  proposes  to  my 
Ego  that  it  shall  die,  it  infallibly  replies  :  '  I  will 
not.'  What,  then,  is  war  with  all  its  hecatombs  of 
dead  and  the  science  of  war,  which  teaches  us  the 
best  methods  of  murdering?  Why,  a  universal 
madness,  an  illusion.  But  wait.  Perhaps  I  am 
mistaken,      No,   I   cannot  be  mistaken,   for  this   '  \ 

7 


98  THE    DUEL 

will  not  *  is  so  simple,  so  natural,  that  everybody 
must,  in  the  end,  say  it.  Let  us,  however,  examine 
the  matter  more  closely.  Let  us  suppose  that  this 
thought  is  pronounced  this  very  moment  by  all 
Russians,  Germans,  ^nghshmen,  and  Japanese. 
Ah,  well,  what  would  be  the  consequence?  Why, 
that  war  would  cease  for  ever,  and  the  officers  and 
soldiers  would  go,  every  man,  to  his  home.  And 
what  would  happen  after  that  ?  I  know  :  Shulgovich 
would  answer  ;  Shulgovich  would  immediately  get 
querulous  and  say  :  '  Now  we  are  done  for  ;  they 
can  attack  us  now  whenever  they  please,  take  away 
our  hearths  and  homes,  trample  down  our  fields, 
and  carry  off  our  wives  and  sisters.'  And  what 
about  rioters,  socialists,  revolutionaries  ?  But  when 
the  whole  of  mankind  without  exception  has  shouted  : 
'  We  will  no  longer  tolerate  bloodshed,'  who  will 
then  dare  to  assail  us  ?  No  one  !  All  enemies 
would  be  reconciled,  submit  to  each  other,  forgive 
everything,  and  justly  divide  among  themselves  the 
abundance  of  the  earth.  Gracious  God,  when  shall 
this  dream  be  fulfilled?  " 

Whilst  Romashov  was  indulging  in  these  fancies, 
he  failed  to  notice  that  Hainan  had  quietly  stolen 
in  behind  his  back  iand  suddenly  stretched  his  arm 
over  his  shoulder.  Romashov  started  in  terror,  and 
roared  out  angrily — 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  want?  " 

Hainan  laid  before  him  on  the  table  a  cinnamon- 
coloured  packet.  "  This  is  for  you,"  he  replied  in 
a  friendly,  familiar  tone,  and  Romashov  felt  behind 
him  his  servant's  jovial  smile.  "  They  are  cigarettes  ; 
smoke  now." 

Romashov  looked  at  the  packet.  On  it  was 
printed,  "  The  Trumpeter,  First-class  Cigarettes. 
Price  3  kopecks  for  20."  , 


THE    DUEL  99 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  asked  in  astonish- 
ment.    "  Where  did  this  come  from?  " 

"  I  saw  that  you  had  no  cigarettes,  so  I  bought 
these  with  my  own  money.  Please  smoke  them. 
It   is  nothing.     Just  a  little  present." 

After  this,  to  conceal  his  confusion,  Haindn  ran 
headlong  to  the  door,  which  he  slammed  after  him 
with  a  deafening  bang.  Romashov  lighted  a 
cigarette,  and  the  room  was  soon  filled  with  a 
perfume  that  strongly  reminded  one  of  melted 
sealing-wax   and   burnt   feathers, 

"Oh,  you  dear  1  "  thought  Romashov,  deeply 
moved.  "  I  get  cross  with  you  and  scold  you  and 
make  you  pull  off  my  muddy  boots  every,  evening, 
and  yet  you  go  and  buy  me  cigarettes  with  your 
few  last  coppers,  '  Please  smoke  them.'  What 
made  you  do  it  ?  " 

Again  he  got  up  and  walked  up  and  down  the 
room  with  his  hands  behind  him. 

"  Our  company  consists  of  at  least  a  hundred 
men,  and  each  of  them  is  a  creature  with  thoughts, 
feelings,  experience  of  life,  personal  sympathies  and 
antipathies.  Do  I  know  anything  about  them?  No, 
nothing,  except  their  faces,  I  see  them  before  me 
as  they  stand  in  line  every  day,  drawn  up  from 
right  to  left  :  Soltyss,  Riaboschdpka,  Yegoroff, 
Yaschtschischin,  etc.,  etc. — mere  sorry,  grey  figures. 
What  have  I  done  to  bring  my  soul  nearer  to  their 
souls,   my   Ego   to  theirs?     Nothing." 

He  involuntarily  called  to  mind  a  rough  night  at 
the  end  of  autimm,  when  (as  was  his  custom)  he 
was  sitting  drinking  in  the  mess-room  with  a  few 
comrades.  Suddenly  the  pay-sergeant  Goumeniuk, 
of  the  9th  Company,  rushed  into  the  room,  and 
breathlessly,  called  to  his   commander — 

"  Your  Excellency,  the  recruits  are  here." 


loo  THE    DUEL 

Yes,  there  they  stood  in  the  rain,  in  the  barrack- 
yard,  driven  together  like  a  herd  of  frightened 
animals  without  any  will  of  their  own,  which  with 
cowed,  suspicious  glances  gazed  at  their  tormentors. 
"  Each  individual,"  thought  Romashov,  as  he  slowly 
and  carefully  inspected  their  appearance,  *'  has  his 
own  characteristic  expression  of  countenance.  This 
one,  for  instance,  is  most  certainly  a  smith  ;  that  is, 
doubtless,  a  jolly  chap  who  plays  his  accordion  with 
some  talent.;  that  one  with  the  shrewd  features  can 
both  read  and  write,  and  looks  as  if  he  were  a 
polevoiy  I  And  one  felt  that  these  poor  recruits 
who,  a  few  days  ago,  had  been  violently  seized 
whilst  their  wives  and  children  were  crying  and 
lamenting,  had  tried,  with  tears  in  their  voices,  to 
join  in  the  coarse  songs  of  their  wild,  drunken 
brothers  in  misfortune.  But  a  year  later  they  stood 
like  soldiers  in  long  rigid  rows — grey,  sluggish, 
apathetic  figures,  all  cast,  as  it  were,  in  the  same 
mould.  But  they  never  left  their  homes  of  their  own 
free  will.  Their  Ego  resented  it.  And  yet  they 
went.  Why  all  this  inconsistency?  How  can  one 
not  help  thinking  of  that  old  and  well-known  story 
about  the  cock  who  fought  desperately  with  his 
wings  and  resisted  to  the  uttermost  when  his  beak 
was  pressed  against  a  table,  but  who  stood  motion- 
less, hypnotized,  when  some  one  drew  a  thick  line 
with  a  piece  of  chalk  across  the  table  from  the  tip 
of  his  beak. 

Romashov  threw  himself  on  the  bed. 

"  What  is  there  left  for  you  to  do  under  the 
circumstances?  "  he  asked  himself  in  bitter  mockery. 
"Do  you  think  of  resigning?  But,  in  that  case, 
where  do  you  think  of  going?  What  does  the  sum 
of  knowledge  amount  to  that  you  have  learnt  at  the 
'  Professional  floor-polisher. 


THE    DUEL  loi 

infants'  school,  the  Cadet  School,  at  the  Military 
Academy,  at  mess?  Have  you  tried  the  struggle 
and  seriousness  of  life  ?  No,  you  have  been  looked 
after  and  your  wants  supplied,  as  if  you  were  a 
little  child,  and  you  think  perhaps,  like  a  certain 
schoolgirl,  that  rolls  grow  on  trees.  Go  out  into 
the  world  and  try.  At  the  very  first  step  you  would 
shp  and  fall  ;  people  would  trample  you  in  the  dust, 
and  you  would  drown  your  misery  in  drink.  And 
besides,  have  you  ever  heard  of  an  officer  leaving 
the  service  of  his  own  free  will?  No,  never.  Just 
because  he  is  unfit  for  anything  he  will  not  give  up 
his  meagre  bread-and-butter.  And  if  any  one  is 
forced  into  doing  this,  you  will  soon  see  him  wearing 
a  greasy  old  regimental  cap,  and  accepting  alms 
from  people  in  the  street.  I  am  a  Russian  officer 
of  gentle  birth,  comprenez-vous?  Alas,  where  shall 
I    go — what    will   become   of   me?  " 

**  Prisoner,  prisoner  1  "  cried  a  clear  female  voice 
beneath  the  window. 

Romashov  jumped  up  from  his  bed  and  rushed 
to  the  window.  Opposite  him  stood  Shurochka. 
She  was  protecting  her  eyes  from  the  sun  with  the 
palm  of  her  hand,  and  pressing  her  rosy  face 
against  the  window  pane,  exclaiming  in  a  mocking 
tone  : — 

"  Oh,  give  a  poor  beggar  a  copper  !  " 

Romashov  fumbled  at  the  window- catch  in  wild 
eagerness  to  open  it,  but  he  remembered  in  the  same 
moment  that  the  inner  window  had  not  been  re- 
moved. With  joyous  resolution  he  seized  the 
window-frame  with  both  hands,  and  dragged  it  to 
him  with  a  tremendous  tug.  A  loud  noise  was 
heard,  and  the  whole  window  fell  into  the  room, 
besprinkling  Romashov  with  bits  of  lime  and  pieces 
of  dried  putty.     The  outer  window  flew  up,  and  a 


I02  THE    DUEL 

stream  of  fresh  air,  tharged  with  joy  and  the  perfume 
of  flowers,  forced  its  way  into  the  room. 

"  Ha,  at  last  1  Now  I'll  go  out,  cost  what  it  may," 
shouted   Romashov  in  a  jubilant   voice. 

"  Romashov,  you  mad  creature  I  what  are  you 
doing?  " 

He  caught  her  outstretched  hand  through  the 
"vvdndoAV,-;  it  was  closely,  covered  by  a  cinnamon- 
coloured  glove,  and  he  beg:m  boldly  to  kiss  it, 
first  upwards  and  downwards,  and  after  that  from 
the  finger-tips  to  the  wrist.  Last  of  all,  he  kissed 
the  hole  in  the  glove  just  below  ,the  buttons.  He 
was  astonished  at  his  boldness  ;  never  before  had 
he  ventured  to  do  this.  Shurochka  submitted 
as  though  unconscious  to  this  passionate  burst  of 
affection,  and  smilingly  accepted  his  kisses  whilst 
gazing  at  him  in  shy  wonderment. 

"Alexandra  Petrovna,  you  are  an  angel.  How 
shall  I  ever  be  able  to  thank  you?  " 

**  Gracious,  Romochka  1  what  has  come  to  you  ? 
And  why  are  you  so  happy?  "  she  asked  laughingly 
as  she  eyed  Romashov  with  persistent  curiosity. 
"  But  wait,  my  poor  prisoner,  I  have  brought  you 
from  home  a  splendid  kaldtsch  and  the  most  de- 
licious apple  puffs." 

"  Stepan,   bring   the   basket   here." 

He  looked  at  her  with  devotion  in  his  eyes,  and 
without  letting  go  her  hand,  which  she  allowed  to 
remain  imresistingly  in   his,   he   said  hurriedly — 

**  Oh,  if  you  knew  all  I  have  been  thinking  about 
this  morning — if  you  only  knew  I  But  of  this,  later 
on. 

"  Yes,  later  on.  Look,  here  comes  my  lord  and 
master.  Let  go  my  hand.  How  strange  you  look 
to-day  4     I  even  think  you  have  grown  handsome." 

Nikolaiev    now   came    up    to    the   window.       He 


THE    DUEL  103 

frowned,  and  greeted  Romashov  in  a  rather  cool 
and  reserved  way. 

"  Come,  Shurochka,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  "  what 
in  the  world  are  you  thinking  about?  You  must 
both  be  mad.  Only  think,  if  the  Commander  were 
to  see  us.   Good-bye,  Romashov  ;  come  and  see  us." 

"  Yes,  come  and  see  us,  Yuri  Alexievich,"  re- 
peated Shurochka.  She  left  the  window,  but 
returned  almost  at  once  and  whispered  rapidly  to 
Romashov.  "Don't  forget  us.  You  are  the  only 
man  here  whom  I  can  associate  with — as  a  friend — 
do  you  hear?  And  another  thing.  Once  for  all  I 
forbid  you  to  look  at  me  with  such  sheep's  eyes, 
remember  that.  Besides,  you  have  no  right  to 
imagine  anything.  You  are  not  a  coxcomb  yet,  you 
know." 


VII 

At  3.30  p.m.  Lieutenant  Federovski,  the  Adjutant 
of  the  regiment,  drove  up  to  Romashov's  house. 
He  was  a  tall,  stately,  and  (as  the  ladies  of  the 
regiment  used  to  say)  presentable  young  man,  with 
freezingly  cold  eyes  and  an  enormous  moustache 
that  almost  grazed  his  shoulder.  Towards  the 
younger  officers  he  was  always  excessively  polite, 
but,  at  the  same  time,  officially  correct  in  his 
conduct.  He  was  not  familiar  with  any  one,  and  had 
a  very  high  opinion  of  himself  and  his  position. 
Nearly  all  the  captains  flattered  and  paid  court  to 
him. 

As  he  entered  the  door,  he  rapidly  scanned  with 
his  blinking  eyes  the  whole  of  the  scanty  furniture 
in  Romashov's  room.  The  latter,  who  lay  resting 
on  his  bed,  jumped  off,  and,  blushing,  began  to 
button   up   his    undress   tunic. 

"  I  am  here  by  orders  of  the  commander,  who 
wishes  to  speak  to  you,"  said  Federovski  in  a  dry 
tone.  "  Be  good  enough  to  dress  and  accompany 
me  as   soon  as  possible." 

"  I  shall  be  ready  at  once.  Shall  I  put  on  undress 
or   parade    uniform?  " 

"  Don't,  please,  stand  on  ceremony.  A  frock-coat, 
if  you  like,  that  would  be  quite  sufficient.  Mean-< 
while,  with  your  permission,  I  will  take  a  seat." 

"  Oh,    I   beg   your   pardon — will   you  have   some 

tea?  "   said   Romashov   fussily. 

104 


THE    DUEL  105 

*'  No,  thanks.  My  time  is  short,  and  I  must  ask 
you  to  be  as  quick  as  possible  about  changing  your 
clothes." 

And  without  taking  off  his  cloak  or  gloves,  he 
sat  down  whilst  Romashov  changed  his  clothes  in 
nervous  haste  and  with  painful  glances  at  his  not 
particularly  clean  shirt.  Federovski  sat  the  whole 
time  with  his  hands  resting  on  the  hilt  of  his  sabre, 
as  motionless  as  a  stone  image. 

"  I  suppose  you  do  not  happen  to  know  why  I 
am  sent  for?  " 

The  Adjutant  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  A  singular  question  1  How  should  I  know? 
You  ought  to  know  the  reason  better  than  I.  But  if 
I  may  give  you  a  bit  of  friendly  advice,  put  the 
sabre -belt  under — not  over — the  shoulder  strap. 
The  Colonel  is,  as  you  are  aware,  particular  about 
such  matters.  And  now,  if  you  please,  we  will 
start." 

Before  the  steps  stood  a  common  caleche,  attached 
to  which  were  a  couple  of  high,  lean  army  horses. 
Romashov  was  polite  enough  to  encroach  as  little 
as  possible  on  the  narrow  seat,  so  as  not  to  cause 
his  attendant  any  discomfort,  but  the  latter  did  not, 
so  it  seemed,  take  the  slightest  notice  of  that.  On 
the  way  they  ta^et  Viatkin  ;  the  latter  exchanged 
a  chilly  and  correct  salute  with  the  Adjutant,  but 
honoured  Romashov,  who  for  a  second  turned  round, 
with  a  comic  but  enigmatical  gesture  that  might 
probably  mean  :  "  Ah,  poor  fellow,  you  are  on  your 
way  to  Pontius  Pilate."  They  met  other  officers, 
some  of  whom  regarded  Romashov  with  2i.  sort  of 
solemn  interest,  others  with  unfeigned  astonishment, 
and  some  bestowed  on  him  only  a  derisive  smile. 
Romashov  tried  to  avoid  their  glances  and  felt  him- 
self shrinking  beneath  them. 


io6  THE    DUEL 

The  Colonel  did  not  receive  him  at  once.  He  had 
some  one  in  his  private  room.  Romashov  had  to 
wait  in  a  half -dark  hall  that  smelt  of  apples, 
naphtha,  newly-polished  furniture  and,  besides  that, 
of  something  which  not  at  all  unpleasantly  reminded 
him  of  the  odour  which  seems  particularly  insepar- 
able from  clothes  and  furniture  in  well-to-do  German 
families  that  are  pedantically  careful  about  their 
goods  and  chattels. 

As  he  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  hall,  he 
glanced  at  himself  several  times  in  a  mirror  in  a 
light  ashwood  frame  which  was  fixed  to.  the  wall  ; 
and  each  time  he  looked  his  face  struck  him  as 
being  unhealthily  pale,  ugly,  and  queer.  His 
uniform,  too,  was  shabby,  and  his  epaulettes  soiled. 

Out  in  the  hall  might  be  heard  the  incessant 
rumbling  of  the  Colonel's  deep  bass  voice.  The 
words  themselves  could  not  be  distinguished,  but 
the  ferocious  tone  told  the  tale  clearly  enough  that 
Colonel  Shulgovich  was  scolding  some  one  with 
implacable  and  sustained  rage.  This  went  on  for 
about  five  minutes  ;  after  which  Schulgovich 
suddenly  became  silent,  a  trembling,  supplicating 
voice  succeeded  his,  and,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
Romashov  clearly  heard  the  following  frightful 
tirade  uttered  with  a  terrible  accent  of  pride,  indig- 
nation, and  contempt  : 

"  What  nonsense  is  it  that  you  dare  to  talk  about 
your  wife  and  your  children?  What  the  devil  have 
I  to  do  with  them?  Before  you  brought  your 
children  into  the  world  you  ought  to  have  considered 
how  you  could  manage  to  feed  them.  What?  So 
now  you  are  trying  to  throw  the  blame  on  your 
Colonel,  are  you  ?  But  it  has  nothing  to  do  with 
him.  You  know  too  well.  Captain,  that  if  I  do 
not   deliver  you   into   the  hands   of  justice    I   shall 


THE    DUEL  107 

fail  in  my  duty  as  your  commander.  Be  good 
enough  not  to  interrupt  me.  Here  there  is  no 
question  of  an  offence  against  discipline,  but  a 
glaring  crime,  and  your  place  henceforward  will 
certainly  not  be  in  the  regiment,  but  you  yourself 
best  know  where.*'  Again  he  heard  that  miserable, 
beseeching  vrticc,  so  pitiful  that  it  did  not  sound 
human . 

"  Good  Lord  I    what  is   it  all  about  ?  "    thought 

\omashov,  who,  as  if  he  were  glued  to  the  luoking- 

glass,  gazed  at  his  pale  face  without  seeing  it,  and 

felt  his  heart  throbbing  painfully.      '*  Good   Lord  1 

how  horrible  1  " 

The  plaintive,  beseeching  voice  again  replied,  and 
spoke  at  some  length.  When  it  ceased,  the  Colonel's 
deep  bass  began  thundering,  but  now  evidently  a 
trifle  more  calmly  and  gently  than  before,  as  if 
his  rage  had  spent  itself,  and  his  desire  to  witness 
the  humiliation  of  another  were  satisfied. 

Shulgovich  said  abruptly  :  "  Engrave  it  for  ever 
on  your  red  nose.  All  right  !  But  this  is  the  last 
time.  Remember  now  1  The  last  time  !  Do  you 
^lear?  If  it  ever  comes  to  my  ears  that  you  have 
been  drunk,  the — silence  ! — I  know  what  you  intend 
to  say,  but  I  won't  hear  any  more  of  your  promises. 
In  a  week's  time  1  shall  inspect  your  company. 
You  understand?  And  as  to  the  troops'  pay,  that 
matter  must  be  settled  to-morrow.  You  hear?  To- 
morrow. And  now  1  shall  not  detain  you  longer. 
Captain.     I  have  the  honour " 

The  last  words  were  interrupted  by  a  scraping 
on  the  floor,  and  a  few  tottering  steps  towards  the 
door  ;  but,  suddenly,  the  Colonel's  voice  was  again 
heard,  though  this  time  its  wrathful  and  violent 
tone  did  not  sound  quite  natural. 

"  Wait  a  moment  !    Come  here,  you  devil's  'pepper- 


io8  THE    DUEL 

box  I  Where  are  you  off  to?  To  the  Jews,  of 
course — to  get  a  bill  signed.  Ah,  you  fool — you 
blockhead  I  Here  you  are  I  One,  two,  three,  four 
— three  hundred.  I  can't  do  more.  Take  them 
and  be  off  with  you.  Pay  me  back  when  you  can. 
What  a  mess  you  have  made  of  things,  Captain  1 
Now  be  off  with  you  !  Go  to  the  devil — your  servant, 
sir  I  " 

The  door  sprang  open,  and  into  the  hall  staggered 
little  Captain  Sviatovidov,  red  and  perspiring,  with 
harassed,  nay,  ravaged,  features.  His  right  hand 
grasped  convulsively  his  new,  rustling  bundle  of 
banknotes.  He  made  a  sort  of  pirouette  directly  he 
recognized  Romashov,  tried,  but  failed  miserably  in 
the  attempt,  to  assume  a  sportive,  free-and-easy 
look,  and  clutched  tight  hold  of  Romashov's  fingers 
with  his  hot,  moist,  trembling  hand.  His  wandering, 
furtive  glances  rested  at  last  on  Romashov  as  if  he 
would  ask  the  question  :  "  Have  you  heard  anything 
or  have  you  not?  " 

"  He's  a  tiger,  a  bloodhound  !  "  he  whispered, 
pointing  to  the  door  of  the  Colonel's  room  ;  "  but 
what  the  deuce  does  it  matter?  "  Sviatovidov  twice 
crossed  himself  quickly.  "  The  Lord  be  praised  ! 
the  Lord  be  praised  I  " 

"  Bon-da-ren-ko  !  "  roared  Shulgovich  from  his 
room,  and  his  powerful  voice  that  moment  filled 
every  nook  and  corner  of  the  house.  "  Bondarenko, 
who  is  out  there  still?     Bring  him  in." 

"  Hold  your  own,  my  young  lion,"  whispered 
Sviatovidov  with  a  false  smile.  "  Au  revoir,  Lieu- 
tenant.    Hope  you'll   have  a  good  time." 

Bondarenko  glided  through  the  door.  He  was 
a  typical  Colonel's  servant,  with  an  impudently  con- 
descending look,  hair  pomaded  and  parted  in  the 
middle,  dandified,  with  white  gloves.     He  addressed 


THE    DUEL  109 

Romashov  in  a  respectfiil  tone,  but  eyed  him,  at  the 
same  time,  in  a  very  bold  way. 

"  His  Excellency  begs  your  Honour  to  step  in." 

He  opened  the  door  and  stepped  aside.  Romas- 
hov walked  in. 

Colonel  Shulgovich  sat  at  a  table  in  a  corner  of 
the  room,  to  the  left  of  the  door.  He  was  wearing 
his  fatigue  tunic,  under  which  appeared  his  gleam- 
ing white  shirt.  His  red,  sinewy  hands  rested  on 
the  arm  of  his  easy  chair.  His  unnaturally  big,  old 
face,  with  short  tufts  of  hair  on  the  top  of  his  head, 
and  the  white  pointed  beard,  gave  an  impression  of 
a  certain  hardness  and  coldness.  The  bright  colour- 
less eyes  gleamed  almost  aggressively  at  the  visitor, 
whose  salutation  was  returned  with  a  brief  nod. 
Romashov  at  that  moment  noticed  a  crescent- 
shaped  ring  in  the  Colonel's  ear,  and  thought 
to  himself  :  "  Strange  that  I  never  saw  that  ring 
before." 

"  This  is  very  serious,"  began  Shulgovich,  in 
a  gruff  bass  that  seemed  to  proceed  from  the  depths 
of  his  diaphragm,  after  which  he  made  a  long  pause. 
"  Shame  on  you  !  "  he  continued  in  a  raised  voice. 
"  Because  you've  served  a  year  all  but  one  week  you 
begin  to  put  on  airs.  Besides  this,  I  have  many 
other  reasons  to  be  annoyed  with  you.  For 
instance  :  I  come  to  the  parade-ground  and  make 
a  justifiable  remark  about  you.  At  once  you  are 
ready  to  answer  your  commanding  officer  in  a  silly, 
insolent  manner.  Can  that  be  called  miUtary  tact 
and  discipline?  No.  Such  a  thing  is  incredible, 
and  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself."  The 
latter  words  were  roared  by  Shulgovich  with  such 
deafening  violence  that  his  victim  felt  a  tremor  under 
his  knee-cap. 

Romashov  looked  gloomily  away,  and  no  power 


no  THE    DUEL 

in  the  world,  thought  he,  should  induce  him  to  look 
at  the  Colonel   straight  in  his  basilisk  face. 

"Where's  my  Ego  now?"  he  asked  himself 
ironically.  "  Here  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  suffer, 
keep  silent,  and  stand  at  attention." 

"  It  does  not  matter  now  how  I  obtained  my 
information  about  you.  It  is  quite  sufficient  I  know 
all  your  sins.  You  drink.  You,  a  mere  boy — a  callow 
creature  that  has  but  lately  left  school — swig 
schnapps  like  a  cobbler's  apprentice.  Hold  your 
tongue,  don't  try  to  defend  yourself,  I  know  every- 
thing— and  much  more  than  you  think.  Well, 
God  forbid  ! — if  you  are  bent  on  going  down  the 
broad  path  you  are  welcome  to  do  it,  so  far  as  I'm 
concerned.  Still,  J '11  give  you  a  warning  :  drink  has 
made  more  than  one  of  your  sort  acquainted  with 
the  inside  of  a  prison.  Lay  these  words  of  mine  to 
heart.  My  long-suffering  is  great,  but  even  an 
angel's  patience  can  be  exhausted.  The  officers  of 
a  regiment  are  mutually  related  as  members  of  one 
family  ;  but  don't  forget  that  an  unworthy  member 
who  tarnishes  the  honour  of  the  family  is  ruthlessly 
cast  out.*' 

"  Here  I  ^stand  paralysed  with  fright,  and  my 
tongue  is  numbed,"  thought  RJomashov,  as  he  stared, 
as  though  hypnotized,  at  the  little  silver  ring  in  the 
Colonel's  ear.  "  At  this  moment  I  ought  to  tell  him 
straight  out  that  I  do  not  in  the  least  degree  value 
the  honour  of  belonging  to  this  worthy  family,  and 
that  I  shall  be  delighted  to  leave  it  to  enter  the 
reserves  ;  but  have  I  the  courage  to  say  so  ?  ^'  His 
lips  moved,  he  found  a  difficulty  in  swallowin^g, 
but  he  stood  still,  as  he  had  throughout  the  inter- 
view. '  '      ;  :*.■*■  J  'f^!  1 

"  But  let  us,"  continued  Shulgovich  in  the  same 
harsh  tone,  "  examine  more  closely  your  conduct  in 


THE    DUEL  1 1 1 

the  past.  In  the  previous  year — practically  as  soon 
as  you  entered  the  service,  you  requested  leave  on 
account  of  your  mother's  illness,  nay,  you  even  pro- 
duced a  sort  of  letter  about  it.  Well,  in  such  cases 
an  officer  cannot,  you  know,  openly  express  his 
doubts  as  to  the  truth  of  a  comrade's  word.  But  I 
take  this  opportunity  of  telling  you  in  private  that 
I  had  my  own  opinion  then  about  that  story.  You 
understand?  " 

Romashov  had  for  a  long  time  felt  a  tremor  in 
his  right  knee.  This  tremor  was  at  first  very  slight, 
in  fact  scarcely  noticeable,  but  it  very  soon  assumed 
alarming  proportions,  and  finally  extended  over  the 
whole  of  his  body.  This  feeling  grew  very  painful 
at  the  thought  that  Shulgovich  might  possibly  re- 
gard his  nervousness  as  proceeding  from  fear  ;  but 
when  his  mother's  name  was  mentioned,  a  consuming 
heat  coursed  through  Romashov's  veins^  and  his 
intense  nervous  tremor  ceased  immediately.  For 
the  first  time  during  all  this  painful  scene  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  his  torturer  and  looked  him  defiantly 
straight  in  the  face.  And  in  this  look  glittered  a 
hatred,  menace,  and  imperious  lust  of  vengeance  from 
the  insulted  man,  so  intense  and  void  of  all  fear  that 
the  illimitable  distance  between  the  omnipotent 
commander  and  the  insignificant  sub -lieutenant,  who 
had  no  rights  at  all,  was  absolutely  annihilated.  A 
mist  arose  before  Romashov's  eyes,  the  various  ob- 
jects in  the  room  lost  their  shape,  and  the  Colonel's 
gruff  voice  sounded  to  him  as  if  from  a  deep  abyss. 
Then  there  suddenly  came  a  moment  of  darkness 
and  ominous  silence,  devoid  of  thoughts,  will,  or 
external  perception,  nay,  even  without  consciousness. 
He  experienced  only  a  horrible  certainty  that,  in 
another  moment,  somethiiig  terrible  and  maniacal, 
something    irretrievably    disastrous,    would    happen. 


112  THE    DUEL 

A  strange,  unfamiliar  voice  whispered  in  his  ear  : 
"'  Next  moment  I  will  kill  him/'  and  Romashov  was 
slowly  but  irresistibly  forced  to  fix  his  eyes  on  the 
Colonel's  bald  head. 

Afterwards,  as  if  in  a  dream,  he  became  aware, 
although  he  could  not  understand  the  reason,  of 
a  curious  change  in  his  enemy's  eyes,  which,  in 
rapid  succession,  reflected  wonder,  dread,  helpless- 
ness, and  pity.  The  wave  of  destruction  that  had 
just  whelmed  through  Romashov 's  soul,  by  the 
violence  of  natural  force,  subsided,  sank,  and  disap- 
peared in  space.  He  tottered,  and  now  everything 
appeared  to  him  commonplace  and  uninteresting. 
Shulgovich,  in  nervous  haste,  placed  a  chair  before 
him,  and  said,  with  unexpected  but  somewhat  rough 
kindness — 

'*  The  Devil  take  you  !  what  a  touchy  fellow 
you  are  1  Sit  down  and  be  damned  to  you  1  But 
you  are  all  alike.  You  look  at  me  as  if  I  were  a 
wild  beast.  '  The  old  fossil  goes  for  us  without 
rhyme  or  reason.'  And  all  the  time  God  knows  I 
love  you  as  if  you  were  my  own  children.  Do  you 
think  I  have  nothing  to  put  up  with,  either?  Ah, 
gentlemen,  how  little  you  know  me  I  It  is  true 
I  scold  you  occasionally,  but,  damn  it  all  !  an  old 
fellow  has  a  ri^ht  to  be  angry  sometimes.  Oh,  you 
youngsters  !  Well,  let  us  make  peace.  Give  me 
your  hand  and  come  to   dinner." 

Romashov  bowed  without  uttering  a  syllable, 
and  pressed  the  coarse,  cold,  hairy  hand.  His  recol- 
lection of  the  past  insult  to  some  extent  faded, 
but  his  heart  was  none  the  lighter  for  this.  He 
remembered  his  proud,  inflated  fancies  of  that  very 
morning,  and  he  now  felt  like  a  little  pale,  pitiful 
schoolboy,  like  a  shy,  abandoned,  scarcely  tolerated 
brat,   and  he  thought   of  all  this   with   shame  and 


THE    DU.EL  11:3 

mortification.  Also,  whilst  accompanying  Shulgo- 
vich  to  the  dining-room,  he  could  not  help  address- 
ing himself,  as  his  habit  was,  in  the  third  person — 

"  And  a  shadow  rested  on  his  brow." 

Shulgovich  was  childless.  In  the  dining-room, 
his  wife — a  fat,  coarse,  self-important  and  silent 
woman — awaited  him.  She  had  not  a  vestige  of 
neck,  but  displayed  a  whole  row  of  chins.  Not- 
withstanding her  pince-nez  and  her  scornful  mien, 
there  was  a  certain  air  of  vulgarity  about  her 
countenance,  which  gave  the  impression  of  its  being 
formed,  at  the  last  minute,  hurriedly  and  negligently, 
out  of  dough,  with  raisins  or  ciurants  instead  of 
eyes.  Behind  her  waddled,  dragging  her  feet,  the 
Colonel's  old  mother — a  little  deaf,  but  still  an  active, 
domineering,  venomous  old  hag.  While  she  closely 
and  rudely  examined  Romashov  over  her  spectacles, 
she  clawed  hold  of  his  fingers  and  coolly  pressed 
to  his  lips  her  black,  shrivelled,  bony  hand,  that 
reminded  one  most  of  an  anatomical  specimen. 
This  done,  she  turned  to  the  Colonel  and  asked 
him,  just  as  if  they  had  been  absolutely  alone  in  the 
dining-room! — 

"  Who  is  this  ?  I  don't  remember  seeing  him 
here  before?  " 

Shulgovich  formed  his  hands  into  a  sort  of 
speaking-tube,  and  bawled  into  the  old  woman's 
ear  : 

'*  Sub -lieutenant  Romiashov,  mamma.  A  capital 
officer,  a  smart  fellow,  and  an  ornament  to  his  regi- 
ment— comes  from  the  Cadet  School.  By  the  way. 
Sub -lieutenant,"  he  exclaimed  abruptly,  "  we  are 
certainly  from  the  same  province.  Aren't  you  from 
Pevsa?  "  » 

'-  Yes,  Colonel,  I  was  bom  in  Pevsa."' 

'  A  town  and  "  government "  in  East  Russia. 

8 


114  THE    DUEL 

"To  be  sure,  to  be  sure  ;  nowt  I  remember.  You 
are  from  the  Narovtschdtski  district?  " 

"  Quite  right,  Colonel." 

"  Ah,  yes — how  could  I  have  forgotten  it  ! 
Mamtna,"  he  again  trumpeted  into  his  mother's  ear, 
"  mamma.  Sub -lieutenant  Romashov  is  from  our 
province  ;    he's  from  Narovtschdtski." 

"  Ah,  ah,"  and  the  old  woman  raised  her  eye- 
brows as  a  sign  that  she  understood.  "  Well,  then, 
you're,  of  course,  a  son  of  Sergei  Petrovich 
Shishkin?"  : 

**  No,  dear  mother,"  roared  the  Colonel,  "  you  are 
wrong.     His  name  is  Romashov,  not  Shishkin." 

"Yes,  didn't  I  say  so?  I  never  knew  Sergei 
Petrovich  except  by  hearsay  ;  but  I  often  met 
Peter  Petrovich.  He  was  a  charming  young  man. 
We  were  near  neighbours,  and  I  congratulate  you, 
my  young  friend,  on  your  relationship." 

"  Well,  as  you  will  have  it,  you  old  deaf -as -a- 
post,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  interrupting  her  with 
good-humoured  cynicism.  "  But  now,  let's  sit 
down  ;  please  take  a  seat.  Sub -lieutenant.  Lieu- 
tenant Federovski,"  he  shrieked  towards  the  door, 
"  stop  your  work  and  come  and  have  a  schnapps." 
The  Adjutant,  who,  according  to  the  custom  in  many 
regiments,  dined  every  day  with  his  chief,  hurriedly 
entered  the  dining-room.  He  clicked  his  spurs 
softly  and  discreetly,  walked  straight  up  to  the  little 
majolica  table  with  the  sakuska,^  calmly  helped  him- 
self to  a  schnapps,  and  ate  with  extreme  calmness 
and  enjoyment.  Romashov  noticed  all  that  with 
an  absurd,   envious  feeling  of  admiration. 

"You'll  take  one,  won't  you?"  said  Shulgovich 
to  Romashov,     "  You're  no  teetotaller,  you  know." 

'  Corresponds  to  the    Swedish   smdrgdsbord,  and    consists    of  a 
number  of  cold  dishes  and  delicacies. 


THE    DUEL  115 

"  No,  thank  you  very  much,"  replied  Romashov 
hoarsely  ;  and,  with  a  slight  cough,  "I  do  not 
usually " 

"  Bravo,  my  young  friend.  Stick  to  that  in 
future." 

They  sat  down  to  table.  The  dinner  was  good 
and  abundant.  Any  one  could  observe  that,  in 
this  childless  family,  both  host  and  hostess  had 
an  innocent  little  weakness  for  good  living.  Dinner 
consisted  of  chicken  soup  with  vegetables,  roast 
bream  with  kascha^^  a  splendid  fat  duck  and  aspara- 
gus. On  the  table  stood  three  remarkable  decanters 
containing  red  wine,  white  wine,  and  madeira, 
resplendent  with  embossed  silver  stoppers  bearing 
elegant  foreign  marks.  The  Colonel,  whose  violent 
explosion  of  wrath  but  a  short  time  previously  had 
evidently  given  him  an  excellent  appetite,  ate  with 
an  elegance  and  taste  that  struck  the  spectator  with 
pleasure  and  surprise.  He  joked  all  the  time  with  a 
certain  rough  humour.  When  the  asparagus  was 
put  on  the  table,  he  crammed  a  corner  of  his 
dazzlingly  white  serviette  well  down  under  his  chin, 
and  exclaimed  in  a  lively  way — 

"If  I  were  the  Tsar,  I  would  eat  asparagus 
every  day  of  my  life." 

^Only  once,  at  the  fish  course,  he  fell  into  his 
usual  domineering  tone,  and  shouted  almost  harshly 
to  Romashov — 

'*  Sub-lieutenant,  be  good  enough  to  put  your 
knife  down.  Fish  and  cutlets  are  eaten  only  with 
a  fork.  An  officer  must  know  how  to  eat  properly*; 
he  may,  at  any  time,  you  know,  be  invited  to 
the  palace.     Don't  forget  that." 

*  A  national  dish  in  Russia,  consisting  of  a  sort  of  buckwheat 
porridge  baked  in  the  oven  in  fire-proof  earthen  vessels,  which  are 
put  on  the  table. 


ii6  THE    DUEL 

Romiashov  was  uncomfortable  and  constrained  the 
whole  time.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do  with 
his  hands,  which,  for  the  most  part,  he  kept  under 
the  table  plaiting  the  fringe  of  the  tablecloth.  He 
had  long  got  out  of  the  habit  of  observing  what 
was  regarded  as  "  good  form  "  in  an  elegant  and 
wealthy  house.  And,  during  the  whole  time  he  was 
at  table,  one  sole  thought  tortured  him  :  '^  How 
disagreeable  this  is,  and  what  weakness  and 
cowardice  on  my  part  not  to  have  the  courage  to 
refuse  this  humiliating  invitation  to  dinner.  Now 
I  shall  not  stand  this  any  longer.  Til  get  up 
and  bow  to  the  company,  and  go  my  way.  They 
may  think  what  they  please  about  it.  They  can 
hardly  eat  me  up  for  that — nor  rob  me  of  my 
soiil,  my  thoughts,  my  consciousness.  Shall  I 
go  ?  "  And  again  he  was  obliged  to  a.cknowledge 
to  himself,  with  a  heart  overflowing  with  pain 
and  indignation,  that  he  lacked  the  moral 
courage  necessary  to  assert  his  individuality  and 
self-respect. 

Twilight  was  falling  when  at  last  coffee  was 
served.  The  red,  slanting  beams  of  the  setting 
sun  filtered  in  through  the  window  blinds,  land 
sportively  cast  little  copper -coloured  spots  or  rays 
on  the  dark  furniture,  on  the  white  tablecloth,  and 
the  clothes  and  countenances  of  those  present.  Con- 
versation gradually  languished.  All  sat  silent,  as 
though  hypnotized  by  the  mystic  mood  of  the  dying 
day. 

"When  I  was  an  ensign,"  said  Shulgovich, 
breaking  the  silence,  "  we  had  for  the  chief  of  our 
brigade  a  General  named  Fofanov.  He  was  just 
one  of  those  gentle  and  simple  old  fogies  who 
had  risen  from  the  ranks  during  a  time  of  war, 
and,   as    I   believe,   belonged   at   the  start   to   what 


THE    DUEL  117, 

we  call  Kantonists.i  I  remember  how  at  reviews 
he  always  went  straight  up  to  the  big  druni — he 
was  insanely  enamoured  of  that  instrument — and  said 
to  the  drummer,  '  Come,  come,  my  friend,  play  me 
something  really  melancholy.'  This  same  General 
had  also  the  habit  of  going  to  bed  directly  the 
clock  struck  eleven.  When  the  clock  was  just  on 
the  stroke  of  the  hour,  he  invariably  said  to  his 
guests,  '  Well,  well,  gentlemen,  eat,  drink,  and  enjoy 
yourselves,  but  I'm  going  to  throw  myself  into  the 
arms  of  Neptune.'  Somebody  once  remarked, 
'  Your  Excellency,  you  mean  the  arms  of  Morpheus  ?  ' 
'  Oh,  that's  the  samie  thing.  They  both  belong  to 
the  same  mineralogy.'  Well,  that's  just  what  I  am 
going  to  do,  gentlemen.'* 

Shulgovich  got  up  and  placed  his  serviette  |on 
the  arm  of  his  chair.  "  I,  too,  am  going  to  throw 
myself  into  the  arms  of  Neptune.  I  release  you, 
gentlemen."' 

Both  officers  got  up  and  stretched  themselves. 
"  A  bitter,  ironical  smile  played  on  his  thin  lips," 
thought  Romashov  about  himself — only  thought, 
however,  for  at  that  moment  his  countenance  was 
pale,  wretched,  and  by  no  means  prepossessing  to 
look  at. 

Once  more  Romashov  was  on  his  way  home,  and 
once  more  he  felt  himself  lonely,  abandoned,  and 
helpless  in  this  gloomy  and  hostile  place.  Once 
more  the  sun  flamed  in  the  west,  amidst  heavy, 
dark  blue  thunder- clouds,  and  once  more  before 
Romashov's  eyes,  in  the  distance,  behind  houses 
and  fields,  at  the  verge  of  the  horizon,  there  loomed 
a  fantastic  fairy  city  beckoning  to  him  with  promises 
of  maryellous  beauty  and  happiness, 

'  In  the  time  of  Nicholas,  sons  of  soldiers  quartered  or  garrisoned 
in  certain  districts.     They  were  liable  to  be  called  on  to  serve. 


ii8  THE    DUEL 

The  darkness  fell  suddenly  between  the  rows  of 
houses.  A  few  little  Jewish  children  ran,  squealing, 
along  the  path.  Here  and  there  in  doorways,  jn  the 
embrasures  of  windows,  and  in  the  dusk  of  gardens 
there  were  sounds  of  women's  laughter,  provoca- 
tive and  unintermittent,  and  with  a  quiver  of  warm 
animalistic  gladness  which  is  heard  only  when  spring 
is  near.  With  the  deep  yet  calm  melancholy  that 
now  lay  heavy  on  Romashov's  heart  there  were 
mingled  strange,  dim  memories  of  a  bliss  miraged 
but  never  enjoyed  in  youth's  still  lovelier  spring, 
and  there  arose  in  his  heart  a  delicious  presentiment 
of  a  strong,  invincible  love  that  at  last  gained 
its  object. 

•When  Romashov  reached  his  abode  he  found 
Haindn  in  his  dark  and  dirty  cupboard  in  front  of 
Pushkin's  bust.  The  great  bard  was  smeared  all 
over  with  grease,  and  before  him  burning  candles 
cast  bright  blurs  on  the  statue's  nose,  its  thick  lips 
and  muscular  neck.  Hainan  sat,  in  the  Turkish 
style,  cross-legged  on  the  three  boards  that  con- 
stituted his  bed,  rocked  his  body  to  and  fro,  and 
mumbled  out  in  a  sing-song  tone  something  weird, 
melancholy,  and  monotonous. 

"  Haindn,"  shouted  Romashov. 

The  servant  started,  jumped  up,  and  stood  at 
attention.  Fear  and  embarrassment  were  displayed 
on  his   countenance. 

"Allah?"  asked  Romashov  in  the  most  friendly 
way. 

The  Circassian's  shaven  boyish  mouth  expanded 
in  a  broad  grin  which  showed  his  beautiful  white 
teeth  in  the  candle-light. 

"  Allah,  your  Honour." 

"It  is  ail  the  same,  Haindn.  Allah  is  in  you. 
AUah  is  in  me.     There  is  one  Allah  for  us  all," 


THE    DUEL  1 1.9 

"  My  excellent  Haindn,"  thought  Romashov  to 
himself  as  he  went  into  his  room.  "  And  I  dare 
not  shake  hands  with  him.  Dare  not  !  Damn  it 
all  1  from  to-day  I  will  dress  and  undress  mjself. 
It's  a  disgrace  that  some  one  else  should  do  it 
for  me." 

That  evening  he  did  not  go  to  the  mess-room, 
but  stayed  at  home  and  brought  out  of  a  drawer  a 
thick,  ruled  book,  nearly  entirely  filled  with  elegant, 
irregular  handwriting.  He  wrote  far  into  the  night. 
It  was  the  third  in  order  of  Romashov 's  novels, 
and  its   title   ran  :     A   Fatal   Beginning. 

But  our  lieutenant  blushed  furiously  at  his  literary 
efforts,  and  he  would  not  have  been  induced  for 
anything  in  the  world  to  acknowledge  his 
authorship . 


viir 

Barracks  had  just  begtin  to  be  built  for  the 
garrison  troops  on  what  was  called  the  "  Cattle 
Square,"  outside  the  town,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  railway.  Meanwhile  the  companies  were 
quartered  here  and  there  in  the  town.  The  officers' 
mess-room  was  situated  in  a  rather  small  house. 
The  drawing-room  and  ballroom  had  their  windows 
over  the  street.  The  other  rooms,  the  windows  of 
which  overlooked  a  dark,  dirty  backyard,  were 
set  apart  for  kitchen,  dining-room,  billiard -room, 
guest-chamber,  and  ladies' -room.  A  long  narrow 
corridor  with  doors  to  aU  the  rooms  in  the  house 
ran  the  whole  length  of  the  building.  In  the  rooms 
that  were  seldom  used,  and  not  often  cleaned  or 
aired,  a  musty,  sour  siriell  greeted  the  visitor  as  he 
entered.  I  :     1  .    •  .J  I     I 

Romashov  reached  the  mess  at  9  p.m.  Five  or 
six  unmarried  officers  had  already  assembled  for  the 
appointed  soiree,  but  the  ladies  had  not  yet  arrived. 
For  some  time  past  there  had  been  a  keen  rivalry 
amongst  the  latter  to  display  their  acquaintance  with' 
the  demands  of  fashion,  according  to  which  it  was 
incumbent  on  a  lady  with  pretensions  to  elegance 
scrupulously  to  avoid  being  among  the  first  to  reach 
the  ballroom.  The  musicians  were  already  in  their 
places  in  a  sort  of  gallery  that  was  connected  with 
the  room  by  means  of  a  large  window  composed  of 
many  panes  of  glass.     Three-branched   candelabra 


THE    DUEL  121 

on  the  pillars  between  the  windows  shed  their 
radiance^  and  lamps  were  suspended  from  the  roof. 
The  bright  illumination  on  the  scanty  furniture,  con- 
sisting only  of  Viennese  chairs,  the  bare  walls,  and 
the  common  white  muslin  window- curtains,  gave 
the  somewhat  spacious  room  a  very  empty  and* 
deserted  air. 

In  the  billiard-room  the  two  Adjutants  of  the 
battalion,  Biek-Agamalov  and  Olisdr — the  only  count 
in  the  regiment — were  engaged  in  a  game  of 
"  Carolina."  The  stakes  were  only  ale.  Olisdr — 
tall,  gaunt,  sleek,  and  pomaded — an  "  old,  yoimg 
man  "  with  wrinkled  face  and  bald  crown,  scattered 
freely  billiard-room  jests  and  slang.  Biek-Agama- 
lov lost  both  his  game  and  his  temper  inconsequence. 
In  the  seat  by  the  window  sat  Staff- Captain  Liescht- 
schenko — a  melancholy  individual  of  forty-five, 
an  altogether  miserable  figure,  the  mere  sight  of 
which  could  bore  people  to  death — watching  the 
game.  His  whole  appearance  gave  the  impression 
of  hopeless  melancholy.  Everything  about  him  was 
limp  :  his  long,  fleshy,  wrinkled  red  nose  ;  his  dim, 
dark-brown  thread-like  moustache  that  reached  down 
below  his  chin.  His  eyebrows,  which  grew  a  good 
way  down  to  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  made  his  eyes 
look  as  if  he  were  just  about  to  weep,  and  his  thin, 
lean  body  with  his  sunken  chest  and  sloping 
shoulders  looked  like  a  clothes-horse  in  its  worn 
and  shiny  uniform.  Lieschtschenko  neither  smoked, 
drank,  nor  played  ;  but  he  found  a  strange  pleasure 
in  looking  at  the  cards  from  behind  the  players' 
backs,  and  in  following  the  movements  of  the  balls 
in  the  billiard-room.  He  likewise  delighted  in 
listening,  huddled  up  in  a  dining-room  window, 
to  the  row  and  vulgarities  of  the  wildest  drinkiag- 
bouts.     He   could   thus   sit,   for  hours   at   a  time, 


122  THE    DUEL 

motionless  as  a  stone  statue,  and  without  uttering 
a  single  word.  All  the  officers  were  so  accustomed 
to  this  that  they  almost  regarded  the  silent 
Lieschtschenko  as  one  of  the  inevitable  fixtures  of 
a  normal  gambling  or  drinking  bout. 

After  saluting  the  three  officers,  Romashov  sat 
down  by  Lieschtschenko,  who  courteously  made 
room  for  him,  as  with  a  deep  sigh  he  fixed  his 
sorrowful  and  friendly,  dog-like  eyes  on  him. 

"  How  is  Maria  Viktorovna?  "  asked  Romashov  in 
the  careless  and  intentionally  loud  voice  which  is 
generally  employed  in  conversation  with  deaf  or 
rather  stupid  people,  and  which  all  the  regiment 
(including  the  ensigns)  used  when  they  happened  to 
address  Lieschtschenko , 

"  Quite  well,  thanks,"  replied  Lieschtschenko 
with  a  still  deeper  sigh.  "  You  understand — her 
nerves  ;    but,  you  know,  at  this  time  of  year " 

"But  why  did  she  not  come  with  you?  But 
perhaps  Maria  Viktorovna  is  not  coming  to  the 
soiree    to-night  ?  " 

"What  do  you  mean?  of  course  she's  coming; 
but  you  see,  my  dear  feUow,  there  was  no  room  for 
me  in  the  cab.  She  and  Raisa  Peterson  took  a 
trap  between  them,  and  as  you'll  understand,  my  dear 
fellow,  they  said  to  me,  '  Don't  come  here  with  your 
dirty,  rough  boots,  they  simply  ruin  our  clothes.*  " 

"  Croisez  in  the  middle — a  nice  *  kiss.'  Pick  up 
the   ball,   Biek,"    cried   Olisdr. 

"  I  am  not  a  lackey.  Do  you  think  I'll  pick  up 
your  balls?"  replied  Biek-Agamalov  in  a  furious 
tone. 

Lieschtschenko  caujght  in  his  mouth  the  tips  of 
his  long  moustaches,  and  thereupon  began  sucking 
and  chewing  them  with  an  extremely  thoughtful  and 
troubled  air. 


THE    DUEL  123 

"  Yuri  Alexievich,  my  dear  fellow,  I  have  a 
favour  to  ask  you,"  he  blurted  out  at  last  in  a  shy 
and  deprecating  tone.  "  You  lead  the  dance  to- 
night, eh?  " 

"  Yes,  damn  it  all  !  They  have  so  arranged  it 
among  themselves.  I  did  try  to  get  off  it,  kow- 
towed to  the  Adjutant — ah,  pretty  nearly  reported 
myself  ill.  *  In  that  case,'  said  he,  '  you  miust  be 
good   enough   to   hand  in   a   medical   certificate.'  " 

"  This  is  what  I  want  you  'to  do  for  me," 
Lieschtschenko  went  on  in  the  same  humble  voice. 
"  For  God's  sake  see  that  she  does  not  have  to  sit 
out  many  dances." 

"  Maria  Viktorovna  ?  " 

"  Yes,  please ^" 

"  Double  with  the  yellow  in  the  corner,"  said 
Biek-Agamalov,  indicating  the  stroke  he  intended 
to  make.  Being  short,  he  often  found  billiards  very 
troublesome.  To  reach  the  ball  now  he  was  obliged 
to  He  lengthways  on  the  table.  He  became  quite 
red  in  the  face  through  the  effort,  and  two  veins  in 
his  forehead  swelled  to  such  an  extent  that  they 
converged  at  the  top  of  his  nose  like  the  letter  V.^ 

"  What  a  conjurer  !  "  said  Olisdr  in  a  jeering, 
ironical  tone.     "  I  could  not  do  that."  ; 

Agamalov's  cue  touched  the  ball  with  a  dry, 
scraping  sound.  The  ball  did  not  move  from  ^ts 
place. 

"  Miss  1  "  cried  Olisdr  jubilantly,  as  he  danced  a 
cancan  round  the  biUiard  table.  "  Do  you  snore 
when  you  sleep,  my  pretty  creature?" 

Agamalov  banged  the  thick  end  of  his  cue  ion  the 
floor. 

*'  If  you  ever  again  speak  when  I  am  making'  a 

'  An  old  Slavonic  character  (I'schiza),  only  occurring  in  the  Russian 
Bible  and  Ritual. 


124  THE    DUEL 

stroke,**  he  roared,  his  black  eyes  glittering,   *'  I'll 
thi^Pw  up  the  ^ame." 

"  Don't,  whatever  you  do,  get  excited.  It's  so 
bad  for  your  health.     Now  it's  my  turn."  ; 

Just  at  that  moment  in  rushed  one  of  the  soldiers 
stationed  in  the  hall  for  the  service  of  the  ladies, 
and  came  to  attention  in  front  of  Romashov.  , 

"  Your  Honour,  the  ladies  would  like  you  to 
come   into   the    ballroom." 

Three  ladies  who  had  just  arrived  were  already 
pacing  up  land  down  the  ballroom.  They  were 
none  of  them  exactly  young  ;  the  eldest  of  them, 
the  wife  of  the  Club  President — Anna  Ivanovna 
Migunov — turned  to  Romashov  and  exclaimed  in 
a  prim,  affected  tone,  drawling  out  the  words  and 
tossing   her   head  : 

"  S,ub-lieutenant  Romashov,  please  order  the 
band   to    play   something   whilst    we   are   waiting.'* 

"  With  pleasure,  ladies,"  replied  Romashov  with 
a  poUte  bow.  He  then  went  up  to  the  orchestra  and 
called  to  the  conductor,  '*  Zisserman,  play  us  some- 
thing pretty." 

The  first  thundering  notes  of  the  overture  to 
"  Long  live  the  Tsar  "  rolled  through  the  open 
windows  of  the  music  gallery  across  the  ballroom, 
and  the  flames  of  the  candelabra  vibrated  to  the 
rhjthm  of  the  drum  beats. 

The  ladies  gradually  assembled.  A  year  ago, 
Romashov  had  felt  an  indescribable  pleasure  in  those 
very  minutes  before  the  ball  when,  in  accordance 
with  his  duties  as  director  of  the  ball,  he  received 
the  ladies  as  they  arrived  in  the  hall.  Oh,  what 
mystic  witchery  those  enchantresses  possessed  when, 
fired  by  the  strains  of  the  orchestra,  by  the  glare 
of  many  lights,  and  by  the  thought  of  the  approach- 
ing   ball,    they    suffered    themselves,    in    delicious 


THE    DUEL  125 

confusion,  to  be  divested  of  their  boas,  fur  cloaks, 
wraps,  etc.  Women's  silvery  laughter,  high-pitched 
chatter,  mysterious  whispers,  the  freezing  perfume 
from  furs  covered  with  hoar-frost,  essences,  powder, 
kid  gloves,  etc.  All  this  commingled  constituted 
the  mystic,  intoxicating  atmosphere  that  is  only 
found  where  beautiful  women  in  evening  dress  crowd 
one  another  immediately  before  entering  a  ballroom. 
What  a  charm  in  their  lovely  eyes,  beaming  with 
the  certainty  of  victory,  that  cast  a  last,  ;swift, 
scrutinizing  glance  in  the  mirror  at  their  hair  !, 
What  music  in  the  frou-frou  of  trains  and  silken 
skirts  !  What  bliss  in  the  touch  of  delicate  little 
hands,  shawls,  and  fans  ! 

All  this  enchantment,  Romashov  felt,  had  now 
ceased  for  ever.  He  now  imderstood,  and  not  (with- 
out a  certain  sense  of  shame,  that  much  of  this 
enchantment  had  owed  its  origin  to  the  perusal  of 
bad  French  novels,  in  which  occurred  the  inevitable 
description  of  how  "  Gustave  and  Armand  cross  the 
vestibule  when  invited  to  a  ball  at  the  Russian 
Embassy."  He  also  knew  that  the  ladies  of  his 
regiment  wore  for  years  the  same  evening  dress, 
which,  on  certain  festive  occasions,  was  patheti- 
cally remodelled,  and  that  the  white  gloves 
very  often  smelt  of  benzine.  The  generally  pre- 
vailing passion  for  different  sorts  of  aigrettes, 
scarves,  sliam  diamonds,  feathers,  and  ribbons  of 
loud  and  gaudy  colours,  struck  him  as  being  highly 
ridiculous  and  pretentious.  The  same  lack  of  taste 
and  shabby-genteel  love  of  display  were  shown  even 
in  their  homes.  They  "  made  up  "  shamelessly, 
and  some  faces  by  this  means  had  acquired 
a  bluish  tint  ;  but  the  most  unpleasant  part 
of  the  affair,  in  Romashov 's  opinion,  was  what  he 
and  others  in  the  regiment,  on  the  day  after  the  baU, 


126  THE    DUEL 

discovered  as  having  happened  behind  the  scenes — 
gossip,  flirtations,  and  big  and  little  scandals.  And 
he  also  knew  how  much  poverty,  envy,  love  of 
intrigue,  petty  provincial  pride,  and  low  morality 
were  hidden  behind  aU  this   splendid   misery. 

Now  Captain  TaUman  and  his  wife  entered  the 
room.  They  were  both  tall  and  compact.  3he 
was  a  delicate,  fragile  blonde  ;  he,  dark,  with 
the  face  of  a  veritable  brigand,  and  affected 
with  a  chronic  hoarseness  and  cough.  Romashov 
knew  beforehand  that  Taliman  would  very  soon 
whisper  his  usual  phrase,  and,  sure  enough,  the 
latter  directly  afterwards  exclaimed,  as  his  gipsy 
eyes    wandered    spy-like   over   the    ballroom — 

"Have  you  started  cards  yet,  Lieutenant?" 

**  No^  not  yet,  they  are  all  together  in  the  dining- 
room." 

"  Ah,  really,  do  you  know,  Sonochka,  I  think 
I'll  go  into  the  dining-room  for  a  minute  just  to 
glance  at  the  Russki  Invalid.  And  you,  my  dear 
Romashov,  kindly  look  after  my  wife  here  for  a  bit — 
they  are  starting  the  quadrille  there." 

After  this  the  Lykatschev  family — a  whole  caravan 
of  pretty,  laughing,  lisping  young  ladies,  always 
chattering — made  its  appearance.  At  the  head 
walked  the  mother,  a  lively  little  woman,  who, 
despite  her  forty  years,  danced  every  dance,  and 
brought  children  into  the  world  "  between  the  second 
and  third  quadrille,"  as  Artschakovski,  the  wit  of 
the  regiment,  liked  to  put  it. 

The  young  ladies  instantly  threw  themselves  on 
Romashov,  laughing  and  chattering  in  the  attempt 
to  talk  one  another  down. 

"  Lieutenant  Romashov,  why  do  you  never  come 
to  thee  uth?  " 

"  You  wicked  man  I  " 


THE    DUEL  127 

"  Naughty,  naughty,  naughty,  1  " 

"  Wicked  man  1  " 

"  I  will  give  you  the  firtht  quadwille," 

"  Mesdames,  mesdames,"  said  Romashov  in  self- 
defence,  bowing  and  scraping  in  all  directions,  and 
forced  against  his  will  to  do  the  polite. 

At  that  very  moment  he  happened  to  look  in  the 
direction  of  the  street  door.  He  recognized,  sil- 
houetted against  the  glass,  Raisa  Alexandrovna's 
thin  face  and  thick,  prominent  lips,  which,  however, 
were  almost  hidden  by  a  white  kerchief  tied  over 
her  hat. 

Romashov,  like  a  schoolboy  caught  in  the  act, 
slipped  into  the  reception-room  as  quick  as  lightning, 
but  however  much  he  might  try  to  convince  himself 
that  he  escaped  Raisa 's  notice,  he  felt  a  certain 
anxiety.  In  his  quondam  mistress's  small  eyes  lay 
a  new  expression,  hard,  menacing,  and  revengeful, 
that  foreboded  a  bad  time  for  him. 

He  walked  into  the  dining-room,  where  a  crowd  of 
officers  were  assembled.  Nearly  all  the  chairs  round 
the  long  oilcloth-covered  table  were  engaged.  The 
blue  tobacco  smoke  curled  slowly  along  the  roof  and 
walls.  A  rancid  smell  of  fried  butter  emanated  from 
the  kitchen.  Two  or  three  groups  of  officers  had 
already  made  inroads  on  the  cold  collation  and 
schnapps.  A  few  were  reading  the  newspapers.  A 
loud,  multitudinous  murmur  of  voices  blended  with 
the  click  of  billiard  balls,  the  rattle  of  knives,  and 
the  slamming  of  the  kitchen  door.  A  cold,  un- 
pleasant draught  from  the  vestibule  caught  one's 
feet  and  legs. 

Romashov  looked  for  Lieutenant  Bobetinski  and 
went  to  him.  1 

Bobetinski  was  standing,  with  his  hands  in  his 
trousers   pockets,   quite   near   the  long   table.     He 


128  THE    DUEL 

was  rocking  backwards  and  forwards,  first  on  his 
toes,  then  on  his  heels,  and  his  eyes  were  blinking 
from  the  smoke.     Romashov  gently  touched  his  arm. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  !  "  said  Bobetinski  as  he 
turned  round  and  drew  one  hand  out  of  his  pocket  ; 
but  he  continued  peering  with  his  eyes,  squinting 
at  Romashov,  and  screwing  his  moustache  with  a 
superior  air  and  his  elbows  akimbo.  "  Ha  I  it  is 
you?     This  is  very  delightful  I  " 

He  always  assumed  an  affected,  mincing  air,  and 
spoke  in  short,  broken  sentences,  thinking,  by  so' 
doing,  that  he  imitated  the  aristocratic  Guardsmen 
and  the  jeunesse  doree  of  St.  Petersburg.  He  had 
a  very  high  opinion  of  himself,  regarded  himself 
as  unsurpassed  as  a  dancer  and  connoisseur  of  women 
and  horses,  and  loved  to  play  the  part  of  a  blase  man 
of  the  world,  although  he  was  hardly  twenty-four . 
He  always  shrugged  his  shoulders  coquettishly  high, 
jabbered  horrible  French,  pattered  along  the  streets 
with  limp,  crooked  knees  and  trailing  gait,  and 
invariably  accompanied  his  conversation  with  care- 
less, weary  gestures. 

"  My  good  Peter  Taddeevich,"  implored  Romas- 
hov in  a  piteous  voice,  "  do,  please,  conduct  the 
ball  to-night  instead  of  me." 

"  MaiSy  mon  ami  "  —  Bobetinski  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  raised  his  eyebrows,  and  assumed  a  stupid 
expression.  "  But,  my  friend,"  he  translated  into 
Russian,  "why  so?  Pourquoi  done?  Really,  how 
shall  I  say  it?     You — you  astonish  me." 

"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  please " 

"  Stop  I  No  familiarities,  if  you  please.  My 
dear  fellow,  indeed  !  " 

"  But  I  beg  you,  Peter  Taddeevich.  You  see,  my 
head  aches,  and  I  have  a  pain  in  my,  throat^;  it  is 
absolutely  imjxjssible  for  me  to " 


THE    DUEL  129 

In  this  way  Romashov  long  and  fruitlessly 
assailed  his  brother  officer.  Finally,  as  a  last 
expedient,  he  began  to  deluge  him  with  gross 
flattery. 

"  Peter  Taddeevich,  there  is  no  one  in  the  whole 
regiment  so  capable  as  yourself  of  conducting  a  ball 
with  good  taste  and  genius,  and,  moreover,  a  lady 
has   specially  desired " 

**  A  lady  !  "  Bobetinski  assumed  a  hlank,  melan- 
choly expression.  "A  lady,  did  you  say?  Ah,  my 
friend,  at  my  age "  he  smiled  with  a  studied  ex- 
pression of  hopeless  resignation.  "  Besides,  what  is 
woman?  Ha,  ha!  an  enigma.  However,  I'll  do 
what  you  want  me  to  do."  And  in  the  same  doleful 
tone  he  added  suddenly,  "  Mon  cher  ami,  do  you 
happen  to  have — what  do  you  call  it — three 
roubles  ?  " 

"  Ah,  no,  alas  !  "  sighed  Romashov. 

••Well,  one  rouble,  then?" 

••  But " 

**  Desagreable.  The  old,  old  story.  At  any  rate, 
I  suppose  we  can  take  a  glass  of  vodka  together?  " 

•'  Alas,  alas  !  Peter  Taddeevich,  I  have  no  further 
credit." 

•'  Oh  !  O  pauvre  enfant!  But  it  does  not  matter, 
come  along  !  "  Bobetinski  waved  his  hand  with 
an  air  of  magnanimity.      "  I   will  treat  you." 

Meanwhile,  in  the  dining-room  the  conversation 
had  become  more  and  more  high-pitched  and  inter- 
esting for  some  of  those  present.  The  talk  was 
about  certain  officers'  duels  that  had  lately  taken 
place,  and  opinions  were  evidently  much  divided. 

The  speaker  at  that  moment  was  Artschakovski, 
a  rather  obscure  individual  who  was  suspected,  not 
without  reason,  of  cheating  at  cards.  There  was  a 
story  current  about  him,  which  was  whispered  about, 

9 


130  THE    DUEL 

to  the  effect  that,  before  he  entered  the  regiment, 
when  he  still  belonged  to  the  reserves,  he  had  been 
head  of  a  posting-station,  and  was  arrested  and 
condemned  for  killing  a  post-boy  by  a  blow  of 
his  fist. 

"  Duels  may  often  be  necessary  among  the  fools 
and  dandies  of  the  Guards,"  exclaimed  Artschakovski 
roughly,  "but  it  is  not  the  same  thing  with  us. 
Let  us  assume  for  an  instance  that  I  and  Vasili 
Vasilich  Lipski  get  blind  drunk  at  mess,  and  that  I, 
who  am  a  bachelor,  whilst  drunk,  box  his  ears. 
What  will  be  the  result  ?  Well,  either  he  refuses  to 
exchange  a  couple  of  bullets  with  me,  and  is  con- 
sequently turned  out  of  the  regiment,  or  he  accepts 
the  challenge  and  gets  a  bullet  in  his  stomach  ;  but 
in  either  case  his  children  will  die  of  starvation. 
No,  all  that  sort  of  thing  is  sheer  nonsense." 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  interrupted  the  old  toper,  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Liech,  as  he  held  his  glass  with  one 
hand  and  with  the  other  made  several  languid 
motions  in  the  air  ;  "  do  you  understand  what  the 
honour  of  the  uniform  is  ?     It  is  the  sort  of  thing, 

my    dear    fellow,    which But    speaking    of    duels, 

I  remember  an  event  that  happened  in  1862  in  the 
Temriukski  Regiment." 

"  For  God's  sake,"  exclaimed  Artschakovski,  in- 
terrupting him  in  turn,  "  spare  us  your  old  stories 
or  tell  us  something  that  took  place  after  the  reign 
of  King  Orre." 

"  What  cheek  I  you  are  only  a  little  boy  compared 
with  me.     Well,  as   I  was  saying " 

"  Only  blood  can  wipe  out  the  stain  of  an  insult," 
stammered  Bobetinski^  who  plumed  himself  on  being 
a  cock,  and  now  took  part  in  the  conversation  in 
a  bragging  tone. 

*'  Well,  gentlemen,  there  was  at  that  time  a  certain 


THE    DUEL  131 

ensign — Solucha,"  said  Liech,  making  one  more 
attempt. 

Captain  Osadchi,  commander  of  the  ist  Com- 
pany, approached  from  the  buffet. 

"  I  hear  that  you  are  talking  about  duels — most 
interesting,"  he  began  in  a  gruff,  rolling  bass  that 
reminded  one  of  a  lion's  roar,  and  immediately 
drowned  every  murmur  in  the  room.  "  I  have  the 
honour,  Lieutenant-Colonel.  Good-evening,  gentle- 
men." 

"  Ah  !  what  do  I  see — the  Colossus  of  Rhodes  ? 
Come  and  sit  down,"  replied  Liech  affably.  "  Come 
and  have  a  glass  with  me,  you  prince  of  giants." 

"  All  right,"  answered  Osadchi  in  an  octave 
lower. 

This  officer  always  had  a  curiously  unnerving 
effect  on  Romashov,  and  at  the  same  time  aroused 
in  him  a  mingled  feeling  of  fear  and  curiosity. 
Osadchi  was  no  less  famous  than  Shulgovich,  not 
only  in  the  regiment  but  also  in  the  whole  division, 
for  his  deafening  voice  when  giving  the  word  of  com- 
mand, his  gigantic  build,  and  tremendous  physical 
strength.  He  was  also  renowned  for  his  remark- 
able knowledge  of  the  service  and  its  requirements. 
Now  and  then  it  even  happened  that  Osadchi  was, 
in  the  interests  of  the  service,  removed  from  his 
own  regiment  to  another,  and  he  usually  succeeded, 
in  the  course  of  half  a  year,  in  turning  the  most 
backward,  good-for-nothing  troops  into  exemplary 
war-machines.  His  magic  power  seemed  much  more 
incomprehensible  to  his  brother  officers  inasmuch 
as  he  never — or  at  least  in  very  rare  instancies — 
had  recourse  to  blows  or  insults.  Romashov  always 
thought  he  could  perceive,  behind  those  handsome, 
gloomy,  set  features,  the  extreme  paleness  of  which 
was  thrown  into  stronger  relief  by  the  bluish-black 


132  THE    DUEL 

jhair,  something  strained,  masterly,  alluring,  and 
cruel — a  gigantic,  bloodthirsty  wild  beast.  Often 
whilst  observing  Osadchi  unseen  from  a  distance, 
Romashov  would  try  to  imagine  what  the  man  would 
be  like  if  he  were  in  a  rage,  and,  at  the  very  thought 
of  it,  his  limbs  froze  with  fear.  And  now,  without  a 
thought  of  protesting,  he  saw  how  Osadchi,  with 
the  careless  calm  that  enormous  physical  istrength 
always  lends,  coolly  sat  down  on  the  seat  intended 
for  himself. 

Osadchi  drained  his  glass,  nibbled  a  crisp  radish, 
and  said  in  a  tone  of  indifference — 

"Well,  what  is  the  verdict?" 

"  That  story,  my  dear  friend,"  Liech  put  in,  *'  I 
will  tell  you  at  once.  It  was  at  the  time  when  I 
was  serving  in  the  Temriukski  Regiment,  a  Lieu- 
tenant von  Zoon — the  soldiers  called  him  '  Pod- 
Zvoon  ' — who,  on  a  certain  occasion,  happened  to 
be  at  mess " 

Here,  however,  Liech  was  interrupted  by  Lipski, 
a  red-faced,  thick-set  staff  captain  who,  in  spite 
of  his  good  forty  years,  did  not  think  it  beneath  him 
to  be  the  Jack-pudding  in  ordinary  and  butt  of  the 
men,  and  by  virtue  thereof  had  assumed  the  insolent, 
jocular   tone   of  a   spoilt   favourite. 

"  Allow  me.  Captain,  to  put  the  matter  in  a  nut- 
shell. Lieutenant  Artschakovski  says  that  duels  are 
nothing  but  madness  and  folly.  For  such  heresy  he 
ought  to  be  sent  with  a  bursary  to  a  seminary  for 
priests — but  enough  of  that.  But  to  get  on  with  the 
story,  Lieutenant  Bobetinski  took  up  the  debate  and 
demanded  blood.  Then  came  Lieutenant -Colonel 
Liech  with  his  hoary  chestnuts,  which,  on  that 
occasion,  by  a  wonderful  dispensation  of  Providence, 
we  managed  to  escape.  After  that.  Sub -lieutenant 
Michin  tried,  in  the  midst  of  the  general  noise,  to 


THE    DUEL  133 

expound  his  views,  which  were  more  and  more  un- 
distinguishable  both  from  the  speaker's  insufficient 
strength  of  lungs  and  his  well-known  bashfulness." 

Sub -lieutenant  Michin — an  undersized  youth  with 
sunken  chest,  dark,  pock-marked,  freckled  face  and 
two  timid,  almost  frightened  eyes — blushed  till  the 
tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  only — gentlemen,  I  may  be  mis- 
taken," he  said,  "  but,  in  my  opinion — I  mean  in  other 
words,  as  I  look  at  the  matter,  every  particular  case 
ought  necessarily  to  be  considered  by  itself."  He 
now  began  to  bow  and  stammer  worse  and  worse, 
at  the  same  time  grabbing  nervously  with  the  tips 
of  his  fingers  at  his  invisible  moustaches.  "  A 
duel  may  occasionally  be  useful,  even  necessary, 
nobody  can  deny,  and  I  suppose  there  is  no  one 
among  us  who  will  not  approach  the  lists — when 
honour  demands  it.  That  is,  as  I  have  said,  indis- 
putable ;  but,  gentlemen,  sometimes  the  highest 
honour  might  also  be  found  in — in  holding  out  the 
hand  of  reconciliation.  Well,  of  course,  I  cannot 
now  say  on  what  occasions  this " 

"  Ugh  !  you  wretched  Ivanovich,"  exclaimed 
Artschakovski,  interrupting  him  in  a  rude  and 
contemptuous  tone,  "  don't  stand  here  mumbling. 
Go  home  to  your  dear  mamma  and  the  feeding- 
bottle." 

"  Gentlemen,  won't  you  allow  me  to  finish  what 
I  was  going  to  say?  " 

But  Osadchi  with  his  powerful  bass  voice  put  a 
stop  to  the  dispute.  In  a  second  there  was  silence 
in  the  room. 

"  Every  duel,  gentlemen,  must,  above  all,  end  in 
death  for  at  least  one  of  the  parties,  otherwise  it  is 
absurd.  Directly  coddling  or  humanity,  so-called, 
comes  in,  the  whole  thing  is  turned  into  a  farce. 


134  THE    DUEL 

'  Fifteen  paces  distance  and  only  one  shot.'  How 
damnably  pitiful  !  Such  a  deplorable  event  only 
happens  in  such  tomfooleries  as  are  called  French 
duels,  which  one  reads  about,  now  and  then,  in  our 
papers.  They  meet,  each  fires  a  bullet  out  of  a 
toy  pistol,  and  the  thing  is  over.  Then  come  the 
cursed  newspaper  hacks  with  their  report  on  the 
duel,  which  invariably  winds  up  thus  :  '  The  duel 
went  off  satisfactorily.  Both  adversaries  exchanged 
shots  without  inflicting  any  injury  on  either  party, 
and  both  displayed  the  greatest  courage  during  the 
whole  time.  At  the  breakfast,  after  the  champagne, 
both  the  former  mortal  enemies  fell  into  each  other's 
arms,  etc'  A  duel  like  that,  gentlemen^  is  nothing 
but  a  scandal,  and  does  nothing  to  raise  the  tone  of 
our  society." 

Several  of  the  company  tried  to  speak  at  once. 
Liech,  in  particular,  made  a  last  despairing  attack 
on  those  present  to  finish  his  story  : 

"  Well,  well,  my  friends,  it  was  like  this — but 
listen,  you  puppies." 

Nobody,  however,  did  listen  to  his  adjurations, 
and  his  suppHcating  glances  wandered  in  vain  over 
the  gathering,  seeking  for  a  deliverer  and  ally. 
All  turned  disrespectfully  away,  eagerly  engrossed 
in  that  interesting  subject,  and  Liech  shook  his  head 
sorrowfully.  At  last  he  caught  sight  of  Romashov. 
The  young  officer  had  the  same  miserable  experience 
as  his  comrades  with  regard  to  the  old  Lieutenant - 
Colonel's  talents  as  a  story-teller,  but  his  heart 
grew  soft,  and  he  determined  to  sacrifice  himself. 
Liech  dragged  his  prey  away  with  him  to  the 
table. 

"  This — well — come  and  listen  to  me,  Ensign.  Ah, 
sit  here  and  drink  a  glass  with  me.  All  the  others 
are  mere  asses  and  loons."    Liech,  with  considerable 


THE    DUEL  135 

difficulty,  raised  his  languid  arm  and  made  a  con- 
temptuous gesture  towards  the  group  of  officers. 
"  Buzz,  buzz,  buzz  !  What  understanding  or  experi- 
ence is  there  amongst  such  things?  But  wait  a  bit, 
you  shall  hear." 

Glass  in  one  hand,  the  other  waving  in  the  air 
as  if  he  were  the  conductor  of  a  big  orchestra,  Liech 
began  one  of  his  interminable  stories  with  which 
he  was  larded — like  sausages  with  liver — and  which 
he  never  brought  to  a  conclusion  because  of  an 
endless  number  of  divagations  from  the  subject, 
parentheses,  embroideries,  and  analogues.  The 
anecdote  in  question  was  about  an  American  duel, 
Heaven  only  knows  how  many  years  ago,  between 
two  officers  who,  playing  for  their  lives,  guessed 
odd  and  even  on  the  last  figure  of  a  date  on  a 
rouble -note.  But  one  of  them — it  was  never  quite 
cleared  up  as  to  whether  it  was  a  certain  Pod-Zvoon 
or  his  friend  Soliicha — was  blackguard  enough  to 
paste  together  two  rouble -notes  of  different  dates 
of  issue,  whereby  the  front  had  always  an  even  date, 
but  the  back  an  odd  one — "  or  perhaps  it  was  the 
other  way  about,"  pondered  Liech  long  and  con- 
scientiously. "  You  see,  my  dear  fellow,  they  of 
course  then  began  to  dispute.  One  of  thenri 
said " 

Alas,  however,  Liech  did  not  even  this  time  get  to 
the  end  of  his  story.  Madame  Raisa  Alexandrovna 
Peterson  had  glided  into  the  buffet.  Standing  at 
the  door,  but  not  entering,  which  was,  moreover, 
not  permitted  to  ladies,  she  shouted  with  the  roguish - 
ness  and  audacity  of  a  privileged  young  lady  : 

"  Gentlemen,   what   do   I   see?     The  ladies  have 
arrived   long   ago,    and    here    you    are    sitting   and 
having  a  good  old  time.     We  want  to  dance." 
,     Two  or  three  young  officers  arose  to  go  into  the 


136  THE    DUEL 

ballroom.  The  rest  coolly  remained  sitting  where 
they  were,  chatting,  drinking,  and  smoking,  without 
taking  the  slightest  notice  of  the  coquettish  lady. 
Only  Liech,  the  chivalrous  old  professional  flirt, 
strutted  up  with  bandy,  uncertain  legs  to  Raisa, 
with  hands  crossed  over  his  chest — and  pouring 
the  contents  of  his  glass  over  his  uniform,  cried 
with  a  drunken  emotion  : 

"  Most  divine  among  women,  how  can  any  one 
forget  his  duties  to  a  queen  of  beauty?  Your  hand, 
my  charmer  ;    just  one  kiss " 

"  Yuri  Alexievich,"  Raisa  babbled,  "  it's  your  turn 
to-day  to  arrange  the  dancing.  You  are  a  nice 
one  to  do   that." 

"  Mille  pardons,  madame.  C'est  ma  faute.  This 
is  my  fault,"  cried  Bobetinski,  as  he  flew  off  to  her. 
On  the  way  he  improvised  a  sort  of  ballet  with 
scrapes,  bounds,  genuflections,  and  a  lot  of  wonderful 
attitudes  and  gestures.  "  Your  hand.  Votre  main, 
madame.  Gentlemen,  to  the  ballroom,  to  the  ball- 
room 1  " 

He  offered  his  arm  to  Raisa  Alexandrovna,  and 
walked  out  of  the  room  as  proud  as  a  peacock. 
Directly  afterwards  he  was  heard  shouting  in  his 
well-known,    affected   tone  : 

"  Messieurs,  take  partners  for  a  waltz.  Band  t 
a  waltz  1  " 

"  Excuse  me,  Colonel,  I  am  obliged  to  go  now. 
Duty  calls  me,"  said  Romashov. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  Liech,  as  his  head 
drooped  with  a  dejected  look — "  are  you,  too,  such 
a  coxcomb  as  the  others  ?  But  wait  just  a  moment, 
Ensign  ;  have  you  heard  the  story  of  Moltike — about 
the  great  Field-Marshal  Moltke,  the  strategist?  " 

"  Colonel,  on  my  honour,  I  must  really  go — 
I " 


THE    DUEL  137, 

"  Well,  well,  don't  get  excited.  I  won't  be  long. 
You  see,  it  was  like  this  :  the  great  Man  of  Silence 
used  to  take  his  meals  in  the  officers'  mess,  and 
every  day  he  laid  in  front  of  him  on  the  table  a 
purse  full  of  gold  with  the  intention  of  bestowing 
it  on  the  first  officer  from  whose  lips  he  heard  a 
single  intelligent  word.  Well,  at  last,  you  know, 
the  old  man  died  after  having  borne  with  this  world 
for  ninety  years,  but — you  see — the  purse  had  always 
been  in  safe  keeping.  Now  run  along,  my  boy. 
Go  and  hop  about  like  a  sparrow." 


IX 

In  the  ballroom,  the  walls  of  which  seemed  to 
vibrate  in  the  same  rhythm  as  the  deafening  music, 
two  couples  were  dancing.  Bobetinski,  whose  elbows 
flapped  like  a  pair  of  wings,  pirouetted  with  short, 
quick  steps  around  his  partner,  Madame  Tahman, 
who  was  dancing  with  the  stately  composure  of  a 
stone  monument.  The  gigantic  Artschakovski  of 
the  fair  locks  made  the  youngest  of  the  Lykatschev 
girls,  a  little  thing  with  rosy  cheeks,  rotate  round 
him,  whereas  he,  leaning  forward,  and  closely  observ- 
ing his  partner's  hair  and  shoulders,  moved  his 
legs  as  if  he  were  dancing  with  a  child.  F'ifteen 
ladies  lined  the  walls  quite  deserted,  and  trying 
to  look  as  if  they  did  not  mind  it.  As,  which  was 
always  the  case  at  these  soirees,  the  gentlemen 
numbered  less  than  a  quarter  of  the  ladies,  the 
prospect  of  a  lively  and  enjoyable  evening  was 
not  particularly  promising. 

Raisa  Alexandrovna,  who  had  just  opened  the 
ball,  and  was,  therefore,  the  object  of  the  other 
ladies'  envy,  was  now  dancing  with  the  slender, 
ceremonious  Olisar.  He  held  one  of  her  hands  as 
if  it  had  been  fixed  to  his  left  side.  She  supported 
her  chin  in  a  languishing  way  against  her  other 
hand,  which  rested  on  his  right  shoulder.  She 
kept  her  head  far  thrown  back  in  an  affected 
and  unnatural  attitude.     When  the  dance  was  over 

138 


THE    DUEL  139 

she  sat  purposely  near  Romashov,  who  was  leaning 
against  the  doorpost  of  the  ladies'  dressing-room. 
She  fanned  herself  violently,  and  looking  up  to 
Olisdr,  who  was  leaning  over  her,  lisped  in  a  soft 
dolcisslmo  : 

"  Tell  me,  Count,  tell  me,  please,  why  do  I  ialways 
feel  so  hot?     Do   tell  me." 

Olisar  made  a  slight  bow,  clicked  his  spurs, 
stroked  his  moustache  several  times. 

*'  Dear  lady,  that  is  a  question  which  I  don't  think 
even  Martin  Sadek  could  answer." 

When  Olisdr  cast  a  scrutinizing  glance  at  the 
fair  Raisa's  decollete  bosom,  pitiable  and  bare  as 
the  desert  itself,  she  began  at  once  to  breathe 
quickly  and  deeply. 

"  Ah,  I  have  always  an  abnormally  high  tempera- 
ture," Raisa  Alexandrovna  went  on  to  say  with  a 
significant  expression,  insinuating  by  her  smile  that 
her  words  had  a  double  meaning.  "  I  suffer,  too, 
from  an  unusually  fiery  temperament." 

Olisar  gave  vent  to  a   short,  soft  chuckle. 

Romashov  stood  looking  sideways  at  Raisa,  think- 
ing with  disgust,  "  Oh,  how  loathsome  she  is." 
And  at  the  thought  that  he  had  once  enjoyed  her 
favours,  he  experienced  the  sensation  as  if  he  had 
not  changed  his  linen   for   months. 

"  Well,  well.  Count,  don't  laugh.  Perhaps  you 
do  not  know  that  my  mother  was  a  Greek?  " 

"  And  how  horribly  she  speaks,  too,"  thought 
Romashov.  "  Curious  jthat  I  never  noticed  this  be- 
fore. It  sounds  as  if  she  had  a  chronic  cold  or  a 
polypus  in  her  nose — *  by  buther  was  a  Greek.'  " 

Now  Raisa  turned  to  Romashov  and  threw  him 
a  challenging  glance. 

Romashov  mentally  said,  -*  His  face  became  im- 
passive like  a  mask." 


I40  THE    DUEL 

"  How  do  you  do,  Yuri  Alexievich?  Why  don't 
you  come  and  speak  to  me?  "  Romashov  went  up 
to  her.  With  a  venomous  glance  from  her  small, 
sharp  eyes  she  pressed  his  hand.  The  pupils  of 
her  eyes  stood  motionless. 

"  At  your  desire  I  have  kept  the  third  quadrille 
ior  you.      I   hope   you   have   not   forgotten  that." 

Romashov   bowed. 

"  You  are  very  polite  !  At  least  you  might  say 
Enchante,  madame!  "  ("  Edchadt^,  badabe  "  was 
what  Romashov  heard.)  *'  Isn't  he  a  blockhead, 
Count  ?^' 

"  Of  course,  I  remember,"  mumbled  Romashov 
insincerely.     "  I  thank  you  for  the  great  honour." 

Bobetinski  did  nothing  to  liven  up  the  evening. 
He  conducted  the  ball  with  an  apathetic,  conde- 
scending look,  just  as  if  he  was  performing,  from 
a  strict  sense  of  duty,  something  very  distasteful 
and  uninteresting  to  himself,  but  of  infinite  impor- 
tance to  the  rest  of  mankind.  When,  however,  the 
third  quadrille  was  about  to  begin,  he  got,  as  it 
were,  a  little  new  life,  and,  as  he  hurried  across 
the  room  with  the  long  gliding  steps  of  a  skater, 
he  shouted  in  a  loud  voice  :  ; 

"  Quadrille  monstre!  Cavaliers,  engagez  vos 
dames!  ^' 

Romashov  and  Raisa  Alexandrovna  took  up  a 
position  close  to  the  window  of  the  music  gallery, 
with  Michin  and  Madame  Lieschtschenko  for  their 
vis-d-vis.  The  latter  hardly  reached  up  to  her 
partner's  shoulders.  The  number  of  dancers  had 
now  very  noticeably  increased,  and  the  couples  stood 
up  for  the  third  quadrille.  Every  dance  had  there- 
fore to  be  repeated  twice. 

"  There  must  be  an  explanation  ;  this  must  be 
put  a  stop  to,"  thought  Romashov,  almost  deafened 


THE    DUEL  141 

by  the  noise  of  the  big  drums  and  the  braying 
brass  instruments  in  his  immediate  proximity.  "  I 
have  had  enough  !  '  And  in  his  countenance  you 
could  read  fixed  resolution.'  " 

The  **  dancing -masters  "  and  those  who  arranged 
the  regimental  balls  had  preserved  by  tradition 
certain  fairly  innocent  frolics  and  jokes  for  such 
soirees,  which  were  greatly  appreciated  by  the 
younger  dancers.  For  instance,  at  the  third 
quadrille  it  was  customary,  as  it  were  accidentally, 
by  changing  the  dances,  to  cause  confusion  among 
the  dancers,  who  with  uproar  and  laughter  did  their 
part  in  increasing  the  general  disorder.  Bobetinski's 
device  that  evening  consisted  in  the  gentlemen 
pretending  to  forget  their  partners  and  dancing  the 
figure  by  themselves.  Suddenly  a  "  galop  all 
round  "  was  ordered,  the  result  of  which  was  a 
chaos  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  rushing  about  in 
fruitless  search  for  their  respective  partners. 

"  Mesdames,  avancez — pardon,  reculez.  Gentle- 
men, alone.     Pardon — balancez  avec   vos  dames!  " 

Raisa  Alexandrovna  kept  talking  to  Romashov 
in  the  most  virulent  tone  and  panting  with  fury, 
but  smiling  all  the  while  as  if  her  conversa- 
tion was  wholly  confined  to  pleasant  and  joyous 
subjects. 

"  I  will  not  allow  any  one  to  treat  me  in  such 
a  manner,  do  you  hear?  I  am'  not  a,  good-for- 
nothing  girl  you  can  do  as  yo,u  like  with.  Besides,- 
decent  people  don't  behave  as  you  are  behaving." 

"  Raisa  Alexandrovna,  for  goodness'  sake  try  to 
curb  your  temper,"  begged  Romashov  in  a  low, 
imploring  tone. 

**  Angry  with  you  ?  No,  sir,  that  would  be  to  pay 
you  too  high  a  compliment.  I  despise  you,  do  you 
hear  ?    Despise   you  ;    but   woe   to   him   who  dares 


142  THE    DUEi: 

to  play  with  my  feelings  I     You  left  my  letter  un- 
answered.    How  dare  you?" 

"  But  your  letter  did  not  reach  me,  I  assure 
you." 

"  Ha  !  don't  try  to  humbug  me.  I  know  your 
lies,  and  I  also  know  where  you  spend  your  time. 
Don't  make  any  mistake  about   that. 

"  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  this  woman,  this 
Lilliput  queen,  and  her  intrigues  ?  Rather,  you  may 
be  sure  of  that,"  Raisa  Svent  on  to  say.  "  She  fondly 
imagines  she's  a  somebody  ;  yes,  she  does  !  Her 
father    was    a   thieving    notary." 

"  I  must  beg  you,  in  my  presence,  to  express 
yourself  in  a  more  decent  manner  in  regard  to  my 
friends,"   interrupted   Romashov   sharply. 

Then  and  there  a  painful  scene  occurred.  Raisa 
stormed  and  broke  out  in  a  torrent  of  aspersions  on 
Shurochka.  The  fury  within  her  had  now  the 
rnastery  ;  her  artificial  smiles  were  banished,  and  she 
even  tried  to  drown  the  music  by  her  snufifly  voice. 
Romashov,  conscious  of  his  impotence  to  try  to 
put  in  a  word  in  defence  of  the  grossly  insulted 
Shurochka,  was  distracted  with  shame  and  wrath. 
In  addition  to  this  were  the  intolerable  din  of  the 
band  and  the  disagreeable  attention  of  the  by- 
standers, which  his  partner's  unbridled  fury  was 
beginning  to  attract. 

"  Yes,  her  father  was  a  common  thief  ;  she  has 
nothing  to  stick  her  nose  in  the  air  about  and  she 
ought,  to  be  sure,  to  be  very  clareful  not  to  give  her- 
self airs  1  "  shrieked  Raisa.  "  And  for  a  thing  like 
that  to  dare  to  look  down  on  us  !  We  know  some- 
thing else  about  her,   too  !  " 

"  I  implore  you  !  "  whispered  Romashov. 

"  Don't  make  any  mistake  abouT:  it  ;  both  you  and 
she    shall    feel    my    claws.       In    the    first    place,    I 


THE    DUEL  143 

shall  open  her  husband's  eyes — ^the  eyes  of  that  fool 
Nikolaiev,  who  has,  for  the  third  time,  been 
'  ploughed  '  in  his  exam.  But  what  else  can  one 
expect  from  a  fool  like  that,  who  does  not  know 
what  is  going  on  under  his  nose  ?  And  it  is  certainly 
no  longer  any  secret  who  the   lover  is." 

"  Mazurka  generate!  Promenade !  "  howled 
Bobetinski,  who  at  that  moment  was  strutting 
through  the  room  with  the  pomp  of  an  larchangel. 

The  floor  rocked  under  the  heavy  tramping  of  the 
dancers,  and  the  muslin  curtains  and  coloured  lamps 
moved  in   unison   with   the  notes   of   the   mazurka. 

"Why  cannot  we  part  as  friends?"  Romashov 
asked  in  a  shy  tone.  He  felt  within  himself  that 
this  woman  not  only  caused  him  indescribable 
disgust,  but  also  aroused  in  his  heart  a  cowardice 
he  could  not  subdue,  and  which  filled  him  with 
self -contempt.  "  You  no  longer  love  me  ;  let  us 
part    good    friends." 

"  Ha  !  ha  I  You're  frightened  ;  you're  trying  to 
cut  my  claws.  No,  my  fine  fellow.  I  am  not  one 
of  those  who  are  thrown  aside  with  impunity.  It 
is  I,  mind  you,  who  throw  aside  one  who  causes 
me  disgust  and  loathing — not  the  other  way  about. 
And  as  for  your  baseness " 

"  That's  enough  ;  let's  end  all  this  talk,"  said 
Romashov,  interrupting  her  in  a  hollow  voice  and 
with  clenched  teeth. 

**  Five  minutes'  enir^acie.  Cavaliers^  occupez  vos 
dames!  "  shouted  Bobetinski. 

"  I'll  end  it  when  I  think  fit.  You  have  deceived 
me  shamefully.  For  you  I  have  sacrificed  all  that 
a  virtuous  woman  can  bestow.  It  is  your  fault 
that  I  dare  not  look  my  husband  in  the  face — 
my  husband,  the  best  and  noblest  man  on  earth. 
It's  you  who  made  me   forget  my  duties  jas  wife 


144  THE    DUEL 

and  mother.     Oh,  why,  why  did  I  not  remain  true 
to   him  1  " 

Romashov  could  not,  however,  now  refrain  from 
a  smile.  Raisa  Alexandrovna's  innumerable  amours 
with  all  the  young,  new-fledged  officers  in  the 
regiment  were  an  open  secret,  and  both  by  word 
of  mouth  and  in  her  letters  to  Romashov  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  referring  to  her  "  beloved  husband  " 
in  the  following  terms  :  "  my  fool,"  or  "  that 
despicable  creature,"  or  "  this  booby  who  is  always 
in  the  way,"  etc.,  etc. 

"  Ah,  you  have  even  the  impudence  to  laugh," 
she  hissed  ;    "  but  look  out  now,  sir,  it  is  my  turn." 

With  these  words  she  took  her  partner's  arm 
and  tripped  along,  with  swaying  hips  and  smiling 
a  vinegary  smile  on  all  sides.  When  the  dance 
was  over  her  face  resumed  its  former  expression 
of  hatred.  Again  she  began  to  buzz  savagely — 
'■  like    an    angry    wasp,"    thought    Romashov. 

"I  shall  never  forgive  you  this,  do  you  hear? 
Never.  1  know  the  reason  why  you  have  thrown 
me  over  so  shamelessly  and  in  such  a  blackguardly 
fashion  ;  but  don't  fondly  imagine  that  a  new  love- 
intrigue  will  be  successful.  No  ;  never,  as  long  as 
I  Uve,  shall  that  be  the  case.  Instead  of  acknow- 
ledging in  a  straightforward  and  honourable  way 
that  you  no  longer  love  me,  you  have  preferred  to 
cloak  your  treachery  and  treat  me  like  a  vulgar 
harlot,  reasoning,  1  suppose,  like  this  :  '  If  it  does 
not  come  off  with  the  other,  I  always  have  her, 
you  know.*     Ha  !    ha  1    ha  1" 

*'  All  right,  you  may  perhaps  allow  me  to  speak 
decently,"  began  Romashov,  with  restrained  wrath. 
His  face  grew  paler  and  paler,  and  he  bit  his  lips 
nervously.  "  You  have  asked  for  it,  and  now  I 
tell  you  straight.     I  do  not  love  you." 


THE    DUEL  145 

"  Oh,  what  an  insult  !  " 

"  I  have  never  loved  you  ;  nor  did  you  love  me. 
>We  have  both  played  an  unworthy  and  false  game, 
a  miserable,  vulgar  farce  with  a  nauseous  plot  and 
disgusting  roles.  Raisa  Alexandrovna,  I  have 
studied  you,  and  I  know  you,  very  likely,  better 
than  you  do  yourself.  You  lack  every  requisite 
of  love,  tenderness,  nay,  even  common  affection. 
The  cause  of  it  is  your  absolutely  superficial 
character,  your  narrow,  petty  outlook  on  life.  And, 
besides  "  (Romashov  happened  to  remember  at  this 
point  Nasanski's  words),  "  only  elect,  refined  natures 
can  know  what  a  great  or  real  love  is." 

"  Such  elect,  refined  natures,  for  instance,  as  your 
own." 

Once  more  the  band  thundered  forth.  Romashov 
looked  almost  with  hatred  at  the  trombone's  wide, 
shining  mouth,  that,  with  the  most  cynical  indif- 
ference, flung  out  its  hoarse,  howUng  notes  over 
the  whole  of  the  room.  And  its  fellow-culprit — the 
poor  soldier  who,  with  the  full  force  of  his  lungs, 
gave  life  to  the  instrument — was  with  his  bulging 
eyes  and  blue,  swollen  cheeks,  no  less  an  object 
of   his    dislike   and    disgust. 

'*  Don't  let  us  quarrel  about  it.  It  is  likely  enough 
that  I  am  not  worthy  of  a  great  and  real  love, 
but  we  are  not  discussing  that  now.  The  fact  is 
that  you,  with  your  narrow,  provincial  views  and 
silly  vanity,  must  needs  always  be  surrounded  by 
men  dancing  attendance  on  you,  so  that  you  may 
be  able  to  boast  about  it  to  your  lady  friends  in 
what  you  are  pleased  to  call  '  Society.'  And  possibly 
you  think  I  have  not  understood  the  purpose  /of 
your  ostentatiously  familiar  manner  with  me  at  the 
regimental  soirees,  your  tender  glances,  etc.,  the 
intimately  dictatorial  tone  you  always  assume  when 

10 


146  THE    DUEL 

we  are  seen  together.  Yes,  precisely  the  chief 
object  was  that  people  should  notice  the  free-and- 
easy  way  in  which  you  treated  me.  Except  for  this 
all  your  game  would  not  have  had  the  slightest 
meaning,  for  no  real  love  or  affection  on  my  part 
has   ever   formed   part   of    your — programme." 

*'  Even  if  such  had  been  the  case  I  might  well 
have  chosen  a  better  and  more  worthy  object 
than  you,"  replied  Raisa,  in  a  haughty  and  scornful 
tone.  ' 

"  Such  an  answer  from  you  is  too  ridiculous  to 
insult  me  ;  for,  listen,  I  repeat  once  more,  your 
absurd  vanity  demands  that  some  slave  should 
always  be  dancing  attendance  on  you.  But  the 
years  come  and  go,  and  the  number  of  your  slaves 
diminishes.  Finally,  in  order  not  to  be  entirely 
without  admirers,  you  are  forced  to  sacrifice  your 
plighted   troth,   your   duties   as   wife   and   mother." 

**  No  ;  but  that's  quite  sufficient.  You  shall  most 
certainly  hear  from  me,"  whispered  Raisa,  in  a 
significant  tone  and  with  glittering  eyes. 

At  that  moment.  Captain  Peterson  came  across 
the  room  with  many  absurd  skips  and  shuffles  in 
order  to  avoid  colliding  with  the  dancers.  He  was 
a  thin,  consumptive  man  with  a  yellow  complexion, 
bald  head,  and  black  eyes,  in  the  warm  and  moist 
glance  of  which  lurked  treachery  and  malice.  It 
was  said  of  him  that,  curiously  enough,  he  was 
to  such  an  extent  infatuated  with  his  wife  that 
he  played  the  part  of  intimate  friend,  in  an  unctuous 
and  sickening  way,  with  all  her  lovers.  It  was 
likewise  common  knowledge  that  he  had  tried  by 
means  of  acrimonious  perfidy  and  the  most  vulgar 
intrigues  to  be  revenged  on  every  single  person  who 
had,  with  joy  and  relief,  turned  his  back  on  the 
fair  Raisa's  withered  charms. 


THE    DUEL  147 

He  smiled  from  a  distance  at  his  wife  and 
Romashov  with  his  bluish,  pursed  lips. 

"Are  you  dancing,  Romashov?  Well,  how  are 
you,  my  dear  Georgi  ?  Where  have  you  been  all 
this  time  ?  My  wife  and  I  were  so  used  to  your 
company  that  we  have  been  quite  dull  without  you." 

"  Been  awfully  busy,"  mumbled  Romashov. 

"  Ah,  yes,  we  all  know  about  those  military 
duties,"  rephed  Captain  Peterson,  with  a  little 
insinuating  whistle  that  was  directly  changed  into 
an  amicable  smile.  His  black  eyes  with  their  yellow 
pupils  wandered,  however,  from  Raisa  to  Romashov 
inquisitively. 

"  I  have  an  idea  that  you  two  have  been 
quarrelling.  Why  do  you  both  look  so  cross?  What 
has  happened?  " 

Romashov  stood  silent  whilst  he  gazed,  worried 
and  embarrassed,  at  Raisa's  skinny,  dark,  sinewy 
neck.  Raisa  answered  promptly,  with  the  easy  inso- 
lence she  invariaoly  displayed  when  lying  : 

"  Yuri  Alexievich  is  playing  the  philosopher.  He 
declares  that  dancing  is  both  stupid  and  ridiculous, 
and  that  he  has  seen  his  best  days." 

*•  And  yet  he  dances?  "  replied  the  Captain,  with 
a  quick,  snake -like  glance  at  Romashov.  "  Dance 
away,  my  children,  and  don't  let  me  disturb 
you.^' 

He  had  scarcely  got  out  of  earshot  before  Raisa 
Alexandrovna,  in  a  hypocritical,  pathetic  tone,  burst 
out  with,  "  And  I  have  deceived  this  saint,  (this 
noblest  of  husbands.  And  for  whom? — Oh,  if  he 
knew  all,  if  he  only  knew  !  " 

''Mazurka  ginirale,'"'  shrieked  Bobetinski. 
'-Gentlemen,  resume  your  partners."  \ 

The  violently  perspiring  bodies  of  the  dancers 
and  the  dust  arising  from  the  parquet  floor  made 


148  THE    DUEL 

the  air  of  the  ballroom  close,  and  the  lights  in 
the  lamps  and  candelabra  took  a  dull  yellow  tint. 
The  dancing  was  now  in  'full  swing,  but  as  the 
space  was  insufficient,  each  couple,  who  every 
moment  squeezed  and  pushed  against  one  another, 
was  obliged  to  tramp  on  the  very  same  spot.  This 
figure — the  last  in  the  quadrille — consisted  in  a 
gentleman,  who  was  without  a  partner,  pursuing  a 
couple  who  were  dancing.  If  he  managed  to  come 
face  to  face  with  a  lady  he  clapped  her  on  the  hand, 
which  meant  that  the  lady  was  now  his  booty. 
The  lady's  usual  partner  tried,  of  course,  to  prevent 
this,  but  by  this  arose  a  disorder  and  uproar  which 
often   resulted   in  some  very   brutal  incidents. 

**  Actress,"  whispered  Romashov  hoarsely,  as  he 
bent  nearer  to  Raisa.  '-  You're  as  pitiable  as  you 
are  ridiculous." 

'-  And  you  are  drunk,'*  the  worthy  lady,  almost 
shrieked,  giving  Romashov  at  the  same  time  a 
glance  resembling  that  with  which  the  heroine  on 
the  stage  measures  the  villain  of  the  piece  from  head 
to  foot. 

"  It  only  remains  for  me  to  find  out,"  pursued 
Romashov  mercilessly,  "  the  exact  reason  why  I 
was  chosen  by  you.  But  this,  however,  is  a  question 
which  I  can  answer  myself.  You  gave  yourself  to 
me  in  order  to  get  a  hold  on  me.  Oh,  if  this  had 
been  done  out  of  love  or  from  sentiment  merely  ! 
But  you  were  actuated  by  a  base  vanity.  Are 
you  not  frigthtened  at  the  mere  thought  of  the 
depths  into  which  we  have  both  sunk,  without  even 
a  spark  of  love  that  might  redeem  the  crime  ?  You 
must  understand  that  this  is  even  more  wretched 
than  when  a  woman  sells  herself  for  money.  Then 
dire  necessity  is  frequently  the  tempter.  But  in 
this  case — the  memory  of  this  senseless,  unpardbn- 


THE    DUEL  149 

able  crime  will  always  be  to  me  a  source  of  shame 
and  loathing." 

.With  cold  perspiration  on  his  forehead  and  dis- 
traction in  his  weary  eyes,  he  gazed  on  the  couples 
dancing.  Past  him,' — hardly  lifting  her  feet  and 
without  looking  at  her  partner — sailed  the  majestic 
Madame  Taliman,  with  motionless  shoulders  and  an 
ironical,  menacing  countenance,  as  if  she  meant  to 
protect  herself  against  the  slightest  liberty  or  insult. 
Epifanov  skipped  round  her  like  a  little  frisky 
goat.  Then  glided  little  Miss  Lykatschev,  flushed 
of  face,  with  gleaming  eyes,  and  bare,  white,  virginal 
bosom.  Then  came  Olisdr  with  his  slender,  elegant 
legs,  straight  and  stiff  as  a  sparrow's.  Romiashov 
felt  a  burning  headache  and  a  strong,  almost  uncon- 
trollable desire  to  weep  ;  but  beside  him,  still  stood 
Raisa,  pale  with  suppressed  rage.  With  an  exag- 
gerated theatrical  gesture  she  fired  at  him  the 
following    satcasm — 

"  Did  any  one  ever  hear  such  a  thing  before?  A 
Russian  Infantry  lieutenant  playing  the  part  of  the 
chaste  Joseph?      Ha,   ha,   ha  1  " 

'-  Yes,  quite  so,  my  lady.  Precisely  that  part,"- 
replied  Romashov,  glaring  with  wrath.  '-  I  know 
too  well  that  it  is  humiliating  and  ridiculous. 
Nevertheless,  I  am  not  ashamed  to  express  my 
sorrow  that  I  should  have  so  degraded  myself. 
With  our  eyes  open  we  have  both  flung  our- 
selves into  a  cesspool,  and  I  know  that  I  shall 
never  again  deserve  a  pure  and  noble  woman's 
love .  Who  is  to  blame  for  this  ?  Well,  you .  Bear 
this  well  in  mind — you,  you,  you — for  you  were  the 
older  and  more  experienced  of  us  two,  especially 
in  affairs  of  that  sort." 

Raisa  Alexandrovna  got  up  hurriedly  from  her 
chair.      '-  That  will  do,'-  she  replied  in  a  dramatic 


ISO  THE    DUEL 

tone.  "  You  have  got  what  you  wanted'.  /  hate 
you.  I  hope  henceforward  you  will  cease  to  visit 
a  home  where  you  were  received  as  a  friend  and 
relation,  where  you  were  entertained  and  fed,  and 
where,  too,  you  were  found  out  to  be  the  scoundrel 
you  are.  Oh,  that  I  had  the  couragie  to  reveal 
everything  to  my  husband — that  incomparable  crea- 
ture, that  saint  whom  I  venerate.  Were  he  only, 
convinced  of  what  has  happened  he  would,  I  think, 
know  how  to  avenge  the  wounded  honour  of  a 
helpless,   insulted  woman.     He  would  kill  you." 

Romashov  looked  through  his  eyeglass  at  her 
big,  faded  mouth,  her  features  distorted  by  hate 
and  rage.  The  infernal  music  from  the  open 
windows  of  the  gallery  continued  with  unimpaired 
strength  ;  the  intolerable  bassoon  howled  worse 
than  ever,  and,  thought  Romashov,  the  bass  drum 
had  now  come  into  immediate  contact  with  his 
brain . 

Raisa  shut  her  fan  with  a  snap  that  echoed 
through  the  ballroom.  "  Oh,  you — lowest  of  all 
blackguards  on  earth,"  whispered  she,  with  a 
theatrical  gesture,  and  then  disappeared  into  the 
ladies'  retiring-room. 

All  was  now  over  and  done  with,  but  Romashov 
did  not  experience  the  relief  he  expected.  This  long- 
nourished  hope  to  feel  his  soul  freed  from  a  heavy 
unclean  burthen  was  not  fulfilled.  His  strict, 
avenging  conscience  told  him  that  he  had  acted 
in  a  cowardly,  low,  and  boorish  way  when  he  cast 
all  the  blame  on  a  weak,  narrow,  wretched  woman 
who,  most  certainly  at  that  moment,  in  the  ladies '- 
room,  was,  through  him,  shedding  bitter,  hysterical 
tears  of  sorrow,  shame,  and  imjpotent  rage. 

"  I  am  sinking  more  and  more  de^ly,"  thought 
he^  in  disgtist  ajt  himself.     What  had  his  life  been.? 


THE    DUEL  151 

what  had  it  consisted  of?  An  odious  and  wanton 
liaison,  gambling,  drinking,  soul-killing,  monotonous 
regimental  routine,  with  never  a  single  inspiriting 
word,  never  a  ray  of  light  in  this  black,  hopeless 
darkness.  Salutary,  useful  work,  music,  art,  science, 
where  were  they  ? 

He  returned  to  the  dining-room.  There  he  met 
Osadchi  and  his  friend  Viatkin,  who  with  much 
trouble  was  making  his  way  in  the  direction  of  the 
street  door.  Liech,  now  quite  drunk,  was  help- 
lessly wobbling  in  different  directions,  whilst  in 
a  fuddled  voice  he  kept  asserting  that  he  was — 
an  archbishop.  Osadchi  intoned  in  reply  with  the 
most  serious  countenance  and  a  low,  rolling  bass, 
whilst  carefully  following  the  ecclesiastical  ritual — 

"  Your  high,  refulgent  Excellency,  the  hour  of 
burial  has  struck.     Give  us  your  blessing,  etc." 

As  the  soir6e  approached  its  end,  the  gathering 
in  the  dining-room  grew  more  noisy  and  lively. 
The  room  was  already  so  full  of  tobacco  smoke 
that  those  sitting  at  opposite  sides  of  the  table  could 
not  recognize  each  other.  Cards  were  being  played 
in  one  corner  ;  by  the  window  a  small  but  select 
set  had  assembled  to  edify  one  another  by  racy 
stories — the  spice  most  appreciated  at  officers' 
dinners  and  suppers. 

"  No,  no,  no,  gentlemen,"  shrieked  Artschakovski, 
"  allow  me  to  put  in  a  word.  You  see  it  was 
this  way  :  a  soldier  was  quartered  at  the  house  of 
a  khokhol  I  who  had  a  pretty  wife.  Ho,  ho,  thought 
the  soldier,  that  is  something  for  me." 

Then,  however,  he  was  interrupted  by  Vasili 
Vasilievich,  who  had  been  waiting  long  and  im- 
patiently— 

Nickname  for  Little  Russians  on  account  of  their  curious  habit  of 
cutting  and  fashioning  their  hair  into  a  tuft  (khokhol)  on  the  crown. 


152  THE    DUEL 

"  Shut  up  with  your  old  stories,  Artschakovski . 
You  shall  hear  this.  Once  upon  a  time  in  Odessa 
there " 

But  even  he  was  not  allowed  to  speak  very  long. 
The  generality  of  the  stories  were  rather  poor  and 
devoid  of  wit,  but,  to  make  up  for  that,  they  were 
interspersed  with  coarse  and  repulsive  cynicisms. 
Viatkin,  who  had  now  returned  from  the  street, 
where  he  had  been  paying  his  respects  to  Liech's 
"  interment  "  and  holy  "  departure,"  invited  Romas - 
hov  to  sit  down  at  the  table. 

*'  Sit  you  here,  my  dear  Georginka.'  We  will 
watch  them.  To-day  I  am  as  rich  as  a  Jew.  I 
won  yesterday,  and  to-day  I  shall  take  the  bank 
again." 

Romashov  only  longed  to  lighten  his  heart,  for 
a  friend  to  whom  he  might  tell  his  sorrow  and 
his  disgust  at  life.  After  draining  his  glass  he 
looked  at  Viatkin  with  beseeching  eyes,  and  began 
to  talk  in  a  voice  quivering  with  deep,  inward 
emotion. 

**  Pavel  Pavlich,  we  all  seem  to  have  completely 
forgotten  the  existence  of  another  life.  Where  it 
is  I  cannot  say  ;  I  only  know  that  it  exists.  Even 
in  that  men  must  struggle,  suffer,  and  love,  but 
that  life  is  rich — rich  in  great  thoughts  and  noble 
deeds.  For  here,  my  friend,  what  do  you  suppose 
our  life  is,  and  how  will  such  a  miserable  existence 
as  ours  end  some  day?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  old  fellow — but  it's  life,"  replied 
Viatkin  in  a  sleepy  way.  "  Life  after  all  is — only 
natural  philosophy  and  energy.  And  what  is 
energy?  " 

"  Oh,  what  a 'wretched  existence,"  Romashov  went 
on  to  say  with  increasing  emotion,  and  without 
•  An  affectionate  diminutive  of  George. 


THE    DUEL  153 

listening  to  Viatkin,  "  To-day  we  booze  at  mess 
till  we  are  drunk  ;  to-morrow  we  meet  at  drill — 
'  one,  two,  left,  right  ' — in  the  evening  we  again 
assemble  round  the  bottle.  Just  the  same,  year  in, 
year  out.  That's  what  makes  up  our  life.  How 
disgusting  !  " 

Viatkin  peered  at  him  with  sleepy  eyes, 
hiccoughed,  and  then  suddenly  started  singing  in 
a  weak  falsetto  : — 

"  In  the  dark,  stilly  forest 
There  once  dwelt  a  maiden, 
She  sat  at  her  distaff 
By  day  and  by  night. 

"*  Take  care  of  your  health,  my  angel,  and  to 
the  deuce  with  the  rest. 

"  Romashevich  !  Romaskovski  I  let's  go  to  the 
board  of  green  cloth.      I'll  lend  you  a '' 

"  No  one  understands  me,  and  I  have  not  a  single 
friend  here,"  sighed  Romashov  mournfully.  The 
next  moment  he  remembered  Shurochka — the 
splendid,  high-minded  Shurochka,  and  he  felt  in 
his  heart  a  delicious  and  melancholy  sensation, 
coupled  with  hopelessness  and   quiet  resignation. 

He  stayed  in  the  mess-room  till  daybreak,  watched 
them  playing  schtoss,  and  now  and  then  took  a  hand 
at  the  game,  yet  without  feeling  the  slightest 
pleasure  or  interest  in  it.  Once  he  noticed  how 
Artschakovski,  who  was  playing  at  a  little  private 
table  with  two  ensigns,  made  rather  a  stupid,  but 
none  the  less  successful,  attempt  to  cheat.  Romas- 
hov thought  for  a  moment  of  taking  up  the  matter 
and  exposing  the  fraud,  but  checked  himself  sud- 
denly, saying  to  himself  :  "  Oh,  what's  the  use  ! 
I  should  not  improve  matters  by  interfering." 


154  THE    DUEL 

Viatkin,  who  had  lost,  in  less  than  five  minutes, 
his  boasted  "  millions,"  sat  sleeping  on  a  chair,  with 
his  eyes  wide  open  anjd  his  face  as  white  as  a 
sheet.  Beside  Romashov  sat  the  eternal  Liescht- 
schenko  with  his  mournful  eyes  fixed  on  the  game. 
Day  began  to  dawn.  The  guttering  candle-ends' 
half-extinguished,  yellowish  flames  flickered  dully 
in  their  sticks,  and  illumined  by  their  weak  and 
uncertain  light  the  pale,  emaciated  features  of  the 
gamblers.  But  Romashov  kept  staring  at  the  cards, 
the  heaps  of  silver  and  notes,  and  the  green  cloth 
scrawled  all  over  with  chalk  ;  and  in  his  heavy, 
weary  head  the  same  cruel,  torturing  thoughts  of  a 
worthless,   unprofitable  life   ran    incessantly. 


X 

It  was  a  splendid,  though  somewhat  chilly,  spring 
morning.  The  hedges  were  in  bloom.  Romashov, 
v/ho  was  still,  as  a  rule,  a  slave  to  his  youthful, 
heavy  sleep,  had,  as  usual,  overslept  himself,  and 
was  late  for  the  morning  drill.  With  an  unpleasant 
feeling  of  shyness  and  nervousness,  he  approached 
the  parade-ground,  and  his  spirits  were  not  cheered 
by  the  thought  of  Captain  Sliva's  notorious  habit 
of  making  a  humiliating  and  painful  situation  still 
worse  by  his  abuse  and  rudeness. 

This  officer  was  a  survival  of  the  barbaric  times 
when  an  iron  discipline,  idiotic  pedantry — parade 
march  in  three  time — and  inhuman  martial  laws  were 
virtually  epidemic.  Even  in  the  4th  Regiment, 
which,  from  being  quartered  in  a  God-forsaken  hole, 
seldom  came  into  contact  with  civilization,  and, 
moreover,  did  not  bear  the  reputation  for  much 
culture.  Captain  Sliva  was  looked  upon  as  a  rough 
and  boorish  person,  and  the  most  incredible  anec- 
dotes were  current  about  him.  Everything  outside 
the  company,  service,  and  drill -book,  and  which 
he  was  accustomed  to  call  "  rot  "  or  "  rubbish," 
had  no  existence  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  After 
having  borne  for  nearly  all  his  life  the  heavy 
burden  of  military  service,  he  had  arrived  at  such 
a  state  of  savagery  that  he  never  opened  a  book, 
and,  as  far  as  newspai>ers  were  concerned,  he  only 

155 


156  THE    DUEL 

looked  at  the  official  and  military  notices  in  the 
Invalid.  He  despised  with  all  his  innate  cynicism 
the  meetings  and  amusements  of  society,  and  there 
were  no  oaths,  no  insulting  terms  too  gross  and 
crude  for  him  to  incorporate  in  his  "  Soldier's 
Lexicon."  One  story  about  him  was  that  one  lovely 
summer  evening,  when  sitting  at  his  open  window, 
occupied,  as  usual,  with  his  registers  and  accounts, 
a  nightingale  began  to  warble.  Captain  Sliva  got 
up  instantly,  and  shouted  in  a  towering  rage  to 
his  servant  Sachartschuk,  "  Get  a  stone  and  drive 
away  that  damned  bird  ;    it's  disturbing  me." 

This  apparently  sleepy  and  easy-going  man  was 
unmercifully  severe  to  the  soldiers,  whom  he  not 
only  abandoned  to  the  ferocity  of  the  "  non-coms.," 
but  whom  he  himself  personally  whipped  till  they 
fell  bleeding  to  the  ground  ;  but  in  all  that  con- 
cerned their  food,  clothing,  and  pay,  he  displayed 
the  greatest  consideration  and  honesty,  and  in  this 
he  was  only  surpassed  by  the  commander  of  the 
5th  Company. 

To  the  junior  officers  Captain  Sliva  was  always 
harsh  and  stiff,  and  a  certain  native,  crabbed  humour 
imparted  an  additional  sharpness  to  his  biting  sar- 
casms. If,  for  instance,  a  subaltern  officer  happened, 
during  the  march,  to  step  out  with  the  wrong  foot, 
he  instantly  bellowed — 

"  Damnation  !  What  the  devil  are  you  doing  ? 
All  the  company  except  Lieutenant  N.  is  marching 
with   the   wrong    foot  1  " 

He  was  particularly  rude  and  merciless  on 
occasions  when  some  young  officer  overslept  him- 
self or,  for  some  other  cause,  came  too  late  to  drill, 
which  not  unfrequently  was  the  case  with  Romas - 
hov. 

Captain  Sliva  had  a  habit  then  of  celebrating  the 


THE    DUEL  157 

victim's  advent  by  forming  the  »whole  company  into 
line,  and,  in  a  sharp  voice,  commanding  "  Atten- 
tion !  "  After  this  he  took  up  a  position  opposite 
the  front  rank,  and  in  death -like  silence  waited, 
watch  in  hand  and  motionless,  while  the  unpunctual 
officer,  crushed  with  shame,  sought  his  place  in  the 
line.  Now  and  then  Sliva  increased  the  poor  sinner's 
torture  by  putting  to  him  the  sarcastic  question  : 
"  Will  your  Honour  allow  the  company  to  go  on 
with  the  drill?  "  For  Romashov  he  had,  moreover, 
certain  dainty  phrases  specially  stored  up,  e.g.  "I 
hope  you  slept  well,"  or  "  Your  Honour  has,  I 
suppose,  as  usual,  had  pleasant  dreams?  "  etc.,  etc. 
When  all  these  preludes  were  finished,  he  began 
to  shower  abuse  and  reproaches   on  his  victim. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care,"  thought  Romashov  to  him- 
self in  deep  disgust  as  he  approached  his  company, 
"It  is  no  worse  to  be  here  than  in  other  places. 
All  my  life  is  ruined." 

Sliva,  Viatkin,  Lbov,  and  the  ensign  were  stand- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  parade-ground,  and  all 
turned  at  once  to  Romashov  as  he  arrived.  Even 
the  soldiers  turned  their  heads  towards  him,  and 
with  veritable  torture  Romashov  pictured  to  him- 
self what  a  sorry  figure  he  cut  at  that 
moment. 

'"  Well,  the  shame  I  am  now  feeling  is  possibly 
unnecessary  or  excessive,"  he  reasoned  to  himself, 
trying,  as  is  habitual  with  timid  or  bashful  persons, 
to  console  himself.  "  Possibly  that  which  seems 
so  shameful  and  guilty  to  me  is  regarded  by  others 
as  the  veriest  trifle.  Suppose,  for  instance,  that 
it  was  Lbov,  not  I,  who  came  too  late,  and  that 
I  am  now  in  the  line  and  see  him  coming  lup. 
Well,  what  more — what  is  there  to  make  a  fuss 
about?    Lbov  comes — that's  all  it  amounts  to.    How 


158  THE   DUEL 

stupid  to  grieve  and  get  uncomfortable  at  such 
a  petty  incident,  which  within  a  month,  perhaps  • 
even  in  a  week,  will  be  forgotten  by  all  here  present. 
Besides,  what  is  there  in  this  life  which  is  not 
forgotten?  "  Romashov  remarked  as  he  finished 
his  argument  with  himself,  and  felt  in  some  degree 
calm  and  consoled. 

To  every  one's  astonishment  this  time  Sliva  spared 
Romashov  from  personal  insults,  nay,  he  even 
seemed  not  to  have  noticed  him  in  the  least. 
When  Romashov  went  up  to  him  and  saluted, 
with  his  heels  together  and  his  hand  at 
his  cap,  he  only  said,  pointing  his  red,  withered 
fingers,  which  strongly  resembled  five  little  cold 
sausages  : 

"  I  must  beg  you,  Sub-lieutenant,  to  remember 
that  it  is  your  duty  to  be  with  your  company 
five  minutes  before  the  senior  subaltern  officers, 
and  ^^«;,^inutes  before  the  chief  of  your  com- 
pany." 

-"  I  am  very  sorry,  Captain,"  replied  Romashov 
in  a  composed  tone. 

"That's  all  very  well,  Sub -lieutenant,  but  you  are 
always  asleep  and  you  seem  to  have  quite  for- 
gotten the  old  adage  :  '  He  who  is  seldom  awake 
must  go  about  shabby.'  And  I  must  now  ask 
you,  gentlemen,  to  retire  to  your  respective  com-  * 
panies." 

The  whole  company  was  split  up  into  small 
groups,  each  of  which  was  instructed  in  gymnastics. 
The  soldiers  stood  drawn  up  in  open  file  at  a  dis- 
tance of  a  pace  apart,  and  with  their  uniforms  un- 
buttoned in  order  to  enable  them  to  perform  their 
gymnastic  exercises.  Bobyliev,  the  smart  subaltern 
officer  stationed  in  Romashov 's  platoon,  cast  a 
Respectful  glance  at  his.  coiulnander,  who  was  ap- 


THE    DUEL  159 

preaching,  his  lower  jaw  stuck  out  and  his  eyes 
squinting,  and  giving  orders  in  a  resonant  voice — 

*'  Hips  steady.  Rise  on  your  toes.  Bend  your 
knees." 

And  directly  after  that,  very  softly  and  in  a  sing- 
song voice — 

"  Begin." 

"  One,"  sang  out  the  soldiers  in  unison,  and  they 
simultaneously  performed  in  slow  time  the  order  to 
bend  the  knees  till  the  whole  division  found  itself 
on  its  haunches. 

Bobyliev,  who  likewise  performed  the  same  move- 
ment, scrutinized  the  soldiers  with  severe,  critical, 
and  aggressive  eyes.  Immediately  beside  him  cried 
the  little  spasmodic  corporal,  Syeroshtdn,  in  his 
sharp,  squeaky  voice  that  reminded  one  of  a  cockerel 
squabbling  for  food — 

"  Stretch  your  arms  to  the  right — and  left — salute. 
Begin,  one,  two,  one,  two,"  and  directly  afterwards 
ten  smart  young  fellows  were  heard  yelling  at  the 
top  of  their   voices   the   regulation — • 

"  Had,  had,  had.'' 

**  Halt,"  shouted  Syeroshtdn,  red  of  face  from 
rage  and  over -exertion.  "  La-apschin,  you  great 
ass,  you  toss  about,  give  yourself  airs,  and  twist 
your  arm  like  some  old  woman  from  Riasan — chod, 
chod.  Do  the  movements  properly,  or  by  all  that's 
unholy  Til " 

After  this  the  subalterns  led  their  respective 
divisions  at  quick  march  to  the  gymnastic  apparatus, 
which  had  been  set  up  in  different  parts  of  the 
parade  -  ground.  Sub  -  lieutenant  Lbov  —  young, 
strong,  and  agile,  and  also  an  expert  gymnast — 
threw  down  his  sabre  and  cap,  and  ran  before  the 
others  to  one  of  the  bars.  Grasping  the  bar  with 
both  his  hands,  aftel?-  three  violent  efforts,  he  made 


# 


i6o  THE   DUEL 

a  somersault  in  the  air,  threw  himself  forward  and 
finally  landed  himself  on  all  fours  two  yards  and  a 
half  from  the  bar. 

"  Sub -lieutenant  Lbov,  at  your  everlasting  circus 
tricks  again,"  shrieked  Captain  Sliva  in  a  tone  meant 
to  be  severe.  In  his  heart  the  old  warrior  cherished 
a  sneaking  affection  for  Lbov,  who  was  a  thoroughly 
efficient  soldier,  and,  by  his  brave  bearing,  invalu- 
able at  parades.  "  Be  good  enough  to  observe 
the  regulation,  and  keep  the  other  thing  till  Carnival 
comes  round." 

"  Right,  Captain  !  "  yelled  Lbov  in  reply  ;  "  but  I 
shan't  obey,"  he  whispered  to  Romashov  with  a  wink. 

The  4th  platoon  exercised  on  the  inclined  ladder. 
The  soldiers  walked  in  turn  to  the  ladder,  gripped 
hold  of  the  steps,  and  climbed  up  them  with 
arms  bent.  Shapovalenko  stood  below  and  made 
remarks — 

*'  Keep  your  feet  still.     Up  with  your  soles." 

The  turn  now  came  to  a  little  soldier  in  the  left 
wing,  whose  name  was  Khliabnikov,  who  served 
as  a  butt  to  the  entire  company.  Whenever  Romas- 
hov caught  sight  of  him,  he  wondered  how  this 
emaciated,  sorry  figure,  in  height  almost  a  dwarf, 
whose  dirty  little  beardless  face  was  but  a  little 
larger  than  a  man's  fist,  could  have  been  admitted 
into  the  army.  And  when  he  met  Khliabnikov's 
soulless  eyes,  which  looked  as  if  they  had  expressed 
nothing  but  a  dull  submissive  fear  ever  since  he 
was  born,  he  felt  in  his  heart  a  heavy,  oppressive 
feeling  of  disgust  and  prick  of  conscience. 

Khliabnikov  hung  motionless  on  the  ladder  like 
a  dead,  shapeless  mass. 

"  Take  a  grip  and  raise  yourself  on  your  arms, 
you  miserable  dog  !  "  shrieked  the  sergeant.  "  Up 
with  you,   I   say." 


THE    DUEL  i6i 

Khliabnikov  made  a  violent  effort  to  show  his 
obedience,  but  in  vain.  He  remained  in  the  same 
position,  and  his  legs  swung  from  side  to  side. 
For  the  space  of  a  second  he  turned  downwards 
and  sideways  his  ashen  grey  face,  in  which  the 
dirty  little  turned-up  nose  obstinately  turned  up- 
wards. Suddenly  he  let  go  of  the  ladder  and  fell 
like  a  sack  to  the  ground. 

"  Ho,  ho,  you  refuse  to  obey  orders,  to  make  the 
movement  you  were  ordered  to  do,"  roared  the 
sergeant  ;  "  but  a  scoundrel  like  you  shall  not 
destroy  discipline.     Now  you  shall " 

"  Shapovalenko,  don't  toujch  him  !  "  shouted 
Romashov,  beside  himself  with  anger  and  shame. 
"  I  forbid  you  to  strike  him  now  and  always." 
Romashov  rushed  up  and  pulled  the  sergeant's 
arm. 

Shapovalenko  instantaneously  became  stiff  and 
erect,  and  raised  his  hand  to  his  cap.  In  his  eyes, 
which  at  once  resumed  their  ordinary  lifeless  ex- 
pression, and  on  his  lips  there  gleamed  a  faint 
mocking  smile. 

"  I  will  obey,  your  Honour,  but  j>ermit  me  to 
report  that  that  fellow  is  utterly  impossible." 

Khliabnikov  took  his  place  once  more  in  the 
ranks.  He  looked  lazily  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
eyes  at  the  young  officer,  and  stroked  his  nose 
with  the  back  of  his  hand.  Romashov  turned  his 
back  on  him  and  went  off,  meditating  painfully 
over  this  fruitless  pity,  to  inspect  the  3rd  platoon. 

After  the  gymnastics  the  soldiers  had  ten  minutes' 
rest.  The  officers  forgathered  at  the  bars,  almost 
in  the  middle  of  the  exercise -ground.  Their  con- 
versation turned  on  the  great  May  parade,  which 
was  approaching. 

1"  Well,  it  now  remains  for  us  to  guess  where  the 

n 


1 62  THE  DUEL 

shoe  pinches,"  began  Sliva,  as  he  swung  his  arms, 
and  opened  wdde  his  watery  blue  eyes,  "  for  I'll 
tell  you  one  thing,  every  General  has  his  special 
little  hobby.  I  remember  we  onCe  had  a  Lieu- 
tenant-General  Lvovich  for  the  commander  of  our 
corps.  He  came  to  us  direct  from  the  Engineers. 
The  natural  consequence  was  we  never  did  any- 
thing except  dig  and  root  up  earth.  Drill,  marching, 
and  keeping  time — all  such  were  thrown  on  the  dust- 
heap.  From  morning  to  night  we  built  cottages 
and  quarters — in  summer,  of  earth  ;  in  winter,  of 
snow.  The  whole  regiment  looked  like  a  collec- 
tion of  clodhoppers,  dirty  beyond  recognition. 
Captain  Aleinikov,  the  commander  of  the  loth 
Company — God  rest  his  soul  1 — became  a  Knight 
of  St.  Anne,  because  he  had  somehow  constructed 
a  little  redoubt  'in  two  hours." 

**  That   was    clever    of    him,"    observed    Lbov. 

•"  Wait,  I  have  more  to  remind  you  of.  You 
remember,  Pavel  Pavlich,  General  Aragonski  and 
his  everlasting  gunnery  instructions  ?  ^' 

"  And  the  story  of  Pontius  Pilate,"  laughed 
Viatkin. 

"What  was  that?"     asked  Romashov. 

Captain  Sliva  made  a  contemptuous  gesture  with 
his  hand. 

"  At  that  time  we  did  nothing  but  read  Aragonski 's 
*  Instructions  in  Shooting.'  One  day  it  so  happened 
that  one  of  the  men  had  to  pass  an  examination 
in  the  Creed.  When  the  soldier  got  to  the  clause 
'  suffered  under  Pontius  Pilatus,'  there  was  a  full 
stop.  But  the  fellow  did  not  lose  his  head,  but 
went  boldiy  on  with  a  lot  of  appropriate  excerpts 
from  Aragonski's  '  Instructions  in  Shooting,'  and 
came  out  with  flying  colours.  Ah,  you  may  well 
believe,  those  were  grand  times  for  idiocy.     Things 


THE    DUEL  163 

went  so  far  that  the  first  finger  was"  not  allowed 
to  retain  its  good  old  name,  but  was  called  the 
'  trigger  finger,'   etc.,   etc." 

"  Do  you  remember,  Athanasi  Kirillich,  what 
cramming  and  theorizing — '  range,'  elevation,  etc. — 
went  on  from  morning  to  night?  If  you  gave  the 
soldier  a  rifle  and  said  to  him  :  *  Look  down  the 
barrel .  What  do  you  see  there  ?  '  you  got  for  an 
answer  :  *  I  see  a  tense  line  which  is  the  gun's  axis,' 
etc.  And  what  practice  in  shooting  there  was  in 
those  days,  you  remember,  Athanasi  Kirillich  I  " 

"  Do  I  remember  I  The  shooting  in  our  division 
was  the  talk  of  the  whole  country,  ah,  even  the 
foreign  newspapers  had  stories  about  it.  At  the 
shooting  competitions  regiments  borrowed  *  crack  ' 
shots  from  each  other.  Down  at  the  butts  stood 
young  officers  hidden  behind  a  screen,  who  helped 
the  scoring  by  their  revolvers.  On  another  occasion 
it  so  happened  that  a  certain  company  made  more 
hits  in  the  target  than  could  be  accounted  for  by 
the  shots  fired,  whereupon  the  ensign  who  was 
marking   got   severely    '  called  over  the  coals.'  " 

"  Do  you  recollect  the  Schreiberovsky  gymnastics 
in  Slesarev's  time?" 

"  Rather  !  It  was  like  a  ballet.  Ah,  may  the 
devil  take  all  those  old  Generals  with  their  hobbies 
and  eccentricities.  And  yet,  gentlemen,  all  that  sort 
of  thing — all  the  old-time  absurdities,  were  as  nothing 
compared  with  what  is  done  in  our  days.  It  might 
be  well  said  that  discipline  has  received  its  quietus. 
The  soldier,  if  you  please,  is  now  to  be  treated 
*  humanely.'  He  is  our  '  fellow-creature,'  our 
'  brother  'r;  his  '  mind  is  to  be  developed,'  he  is 
to  be  taught  '  to  think,'  etc.,  etc.  What  absolute 
madness  1  No,  he  shall  have  a  thrashing,  the 
scoundrel.     And  oh,   my   saintly  Suvorov,   tell  me 


1 64  THE  DUEL 

if  a  single  individual  nowadays  knows  how  a  soldier 
ought  to  be  treated,  and  what  one  should  teach  him. 
Nothing  but  new-fangled  arts  and  rubbish.  That 
invention  in  regard  to  cavalry  charges,  for  instance." 

"  Yes,  one  might  have  something  more  amusing," 
Viatkin  chimed  in. 

"  There  you  stand,"  continued  Sliva,  "  in  the 
middle  of  the  field,  like  a  decoy-bird,  and  the 
Cossacks  rush  at  you  in  full  pelt.  Naturally,  like  a 
sensible  man,  you  make  room  for  them  in  good  time. 
Directly  after  comes  :  '  You  have  bad  nerves. 
Captain  ;  one  should  not  behave  in  that  way  in  the 
army.  Be  good  enough  to  recollect  that,'  etc.,  etc., 
in  the  same  style." 

"  The  General  in  command  of  the  K Regi- 
ment," interrupted  Viatkin,  "  once  had  a  brilliant  idea. 
He  had  a  company  marched  to  the  edge  of  an  awful 
cesspool,  and  then  ordered  the  Captain  to  order  the 
men  to  lie  down.  The  latter  hesitated  for  an  instant, 
but  obeyed  the  command.  The  soldiers  were  chap- 
fallen,  gazing  at  one  another  in  a  questioning  way. 
All  thought  they  had  heard  incorrectly  ;  but  they 
got  their  information  right  enough.  The  General 
thundered  away  at  the  poor  Captain  in  the  presence 
of  all .  *  What  training  do  you  give  your  company  ? 
Miserable  lot  of  weaklings.  Pretty  heroes  to  take 
into  the  field.  No,  you  are  cravens,  every  one  of  you, 
and  you.  Captain,  not  the  least  among  them.  March 
to  arrest.'  " 

"  That    '  takes    the    cake,'  "   laughed    Lbov. 

"  And  what's  the  use  of  it?  First  one  insults  the 
officers  in  the  presence  of  the  men,  and  then  com- 
plaints are  made  of  lack  of  disciphne.  But  to  give 
a  scamp  his  deserts  is  a  thing  one  dare  not  do.  He 
is,  if  you  please,  a  '  human  being,'  a  *  personage  \; 
but  in  the  good  ojd  times  there  wgi^  no  '  personages  ' 


THE    DUEL  i'65 

in  the  army.  Then  the  cattle  got  what  they  needed, 
and  then  there  was  the  Italian  Campaign,  Sebastopol, 
and  several  other  trifles.  Well,  all  the  same  thing, 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I'll  do  my  duty  even  if  it 
costs  me  my  commission,  and  as  far  as  my  arm 
reaches  every  scoundrel  shall  get  his  deserts." 

"  There's  no  honour  in  striking  a  soldier,"  ex- 
claimed Romashov,  in  a  muffled  voice.  Up  to  this 
he  had  been  merely  a  silent  listener.  "  One  can't 
hit  a  man  who  is  not  allowed  to  raise  a  hand  in 
self-defence.     It  is  as  cowardly  as  it  is  cruel." 

Captain  Sliva  bestowed  on  Romashov  an  annihi- 
lating look,  pressed  his  underlip  against  his  little 
grey,  bristling  moustache,  and  at  length  exclaimed, 
with  an  expression  of  the  deepest  contempt — 

"Wha-at's  that?" 

Romashov  stood  as  white  as  a  corpse,  his  pulse 
beat  violently,  and  a  cold  shudder  ran  through  his 
body. 

"  I  said  that  such  a  method  of  treatment  was 
cruel  and  cowardly,  and  I — retain  my  opinion," 
answered  Romashov  nervously,  but  without  flinching. 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  twittered  Sliva.  "  Listen 
to  my  young  cockerel.  Should  you,  against  all 
likelihood,  be  another  year  with  the  regiment,  you 
shall  be  provided  with  a  muzzle.  That  you  may 
rely  on.  Thank  God,  I  know  how  to  deal  with  such 
germs  of  evil.     Don't  worry  yourself  about  that." 

Romashov  fearlessly  directed  at  him  a  glance  of 
hatred,  straight  in  his  eyes,  and  said,  almost  in  a 
whisper — 

"  If  ever  I  see  you  maltreat  a  soldier  I  will  report 
it  at  once  to  the  commander  of  the  regiment." 

"What,  do  you  dare?"  shrieked  Sliva  in  a 
threatening  voice,  but  checked  himself  instantly. 
"  Enough  of  this,"  he  went  on  to  say  dryly.;  -'  you 


i66  THE  DUEL 

ensigns  are  a  little  too  young  to  teach  veterans  who 
have  smelt  powder,  and  who  have,  for  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  served  their  Tsar  without 
incurring  punishment.  Officers,  return  to  your 
respective  posts." 

Captain  Sliva  turned  his  back  sharply  on  the 
officers  and  went  away. 

"Why  do  you  poke  your  nose  into  all  that?" 
asked  Viatkin  as  he  took  Romashov  by  the  arm 
and  left  the  place,  "  As  you  know,  that  old  plum  ' 
isn't  one  of  the  sweetest  ;  besides,  you  don't  know 
him  yet  as  well  as  I  do.  Be  careful  what  you  are 
about  ;  he  is  not  to  be  played  with,  and  some  fine 
day  he'll  put  you  in  the  lock-up  in  earnest." 

"  Listen,  Pavel  Pavlich,"  cried  Romashov,  with 
tears  of  rage  in  his  voice.  "  Do  you  think  views 
such  as  Captain  Sliva 's  are  worthy  of  an  officer? 
And  is  it  not  revolting  that  such  old  bags  of  bones 
should  be  suffered  to  insult  their  subordinates  with 
impunity?  Who  can  put  up  with  it  in  the 
long  run  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes — to  a  certain  extent  you  are  right," 
replied  Viatkin,  in  a  tone  of  indifference.  The  rest 
of  what  he  thought  of  saying  died  away  in  a  gape, 
and  Romashov  continued,  in  increasing  excitement — 

"  Tell  me,  what  is  the  use  of  all  this  shouting  and 
yelling  at  the  men  ?  I  never  could  imagine  when 
I  became  an  officer  that  such  barbarism  was  tolerated 
in  our  time  in  a  Russian  regiment.  Ah  I  never 
shall  I  forget  my  first  impressions  and  experiences 
here.  One  incident  remains  very  clearly  graven  in 
my  memory.  It  was  the  third  day  after  my  arrival 
here.  I  was  sitting  at  mess  in  company  with  that 
red-haired  libertine,  Artschakovski .  I  addressed 
him  in  conversation  as  '  lieutenant,'  because  he  called 
*  Sliva  is  the  Russian  for  plum. 


THE    DUEL  167 

me  '  sub -lieutenant.'  Suddenly  he  began  showering 
insults  and  abuse  on  me.  Although  we  sat  at  the 
same  table  and  drank  ale  together,  he  shouted  at 
me  :  '  In  the  first  place,  I  am  not  lieutenant  to  you, 
but  Mr.  Lieutenant,  and,  secondly,  be  good  enough 
to  stand  up  when  you  are  speaking  to  your  superior.' 
And  there  I  stood  in  the  room,  like  a  schoolboy 
under  punishment,  until  Lieutenant-Colonel  Liechi 
came  and  sat  between  us.  No,  no,  pray  don't  say 
anything,  Pavel  Pavlich.  I  am  just  sick  of  all  that 
goes  on  here," 


XI 

The  22nd  of  April  was  for  Romashov  not  only  an 
uncomfortable  and  tiresome  day,  but  a  very  remark- 
able one.  At  lo  a.m.,  before  Romashov  had  got 
out  of  bed,  Nikolaiev's  servant,  Stepan,  arrived  with 
a  letter  from  Alexandra  Petrovna. 

My  dear  Romotchka  (she  wrote),  I  should  not  be  in  the  least 
surprised  if  you  have  forgotten  that  to-day  is  my  name-day,  of  which 
I  also  take  the  liberty  to  remind  you.  And  in  spite  of  all  your  trans- 
gressions, I  should  like  to  see  you  at  my  house  to-day.  But  don't 
come  at  the  conventional  hour  of  congratulation,  but  at  5  p.m.  We 
are  going  to  a  little  picnic  at  Dubetschnaia. — Yours, 

A.N. 

The  letter  trembled  in  Romashov 's  hands  as  he 
read  it.  For  a  whole  week  he  had  not  once  seen 
Shurochka's  saucy,  smiling,  bewitching  face  ;  had 
not  felt  the  delicious  enchantment  he  always  ex- 
perienced in  her  presence.  "  To-day,"  a  joyful  voice 
sang  exultant  in  his  heart. 

"  To-day,"  shouted  Romashov,  in  a  ringing  voice, 
as  he  jumped  out  of  bed.  "  Haindn,  my  bath- 
water, quick." 

Hainan  rushed  in. 

"  Your    Honour,    the   servant   is    waiting   for   an 

answer." 

"  Oh*— yes,  of  course."     Romashov  dropped,  with 
168 


THE    DUEL  169 

eyes  wide  open,  on  a  chair.  "  The  deuce,  he  is 
■waiting  for  a  *  tip,'  and  I  haven't  a  single  copeck." 
Romashov  stared  at  his  trusty  servant  with  a  look 
of  absolute  helplessness. 

Haindn  returned  his  look  with  a;  broad  grin  of 
delight. 

"  No  more  have  I  either,  your  Excellency.  You 
have  nothing,  and  I  have  nothing — what's  to  be 
done?     Nichevd!'' 

At  that  moment  Romashov  called  to  mind  that 
dark  spring  night  when  he  stood  in  the  dirty  road, 
leaning  against  the  "wet,  sticky  fence,  and  heard 
Stepan's  scornful  remark  :  "'  That  man  hangs  about 
here  every  day."  Now  he  remembered  the  intoler- 
able feeling  of  shame  he  experienced  at  that  moment, 
and  what  would  he  not  give  if  only  he  could  conjure 
up  a  single  silver  coin,  a  twenty :- copeck  piece, 
wherewith  to  stop  the  mouth  of  Shurochka's 
messenger. 

He  pressed  his  hands  convulsively  against  his 
temples  and  almost  cried  from  annoyance. 

**  Haindn,"  he  whispered,  looking  shyly  askance 
at  the  door,  "  Haindn,  go  and  tell  him  he  shall 
have  his  'tip*  to-night — for  certain,  do  you  hear? 
For  certain." 

Romashov  was  just  then  as  hard  up  as  it  was 
possible  to  be.  His  credit  was  gone  everywhere — 
at  mess,  with  the  buffet  proprietor,  at  the  regi- 
mental treasury,  etc.  He  certainly  still  drew  his 
dinner  and  supper  rations,  but  without  sakuska. 
He  had  not  even  tea  and  sugar  in  his  room  ;  only 
a  tremendous  tin  can  containing  coffee  grounds — 
a  dark,  awesome  mixture  which,  when  diluted  with 
water,  was  heroically  swallowed  every  morning  by 
Romashov  and  his  trusty  servant. 

With  grimaces  of  the  deepest  disgtist,  Romashov 


170  THE    DUEL 

sat  and  absorbed  this  bitter,  nauseous  morning 
beverage.  His  brain  was  working  at  high  pressure 
as  to  how  he  should  find  some  escape  from  the 
present  desperate  situation.  First,  where  and  how 
was  he  to  obtain  a  name  -Iday  present  for  Shurochka  ? 
It  would  be  an  impossibility  for  him  to  show  up 
at  her  house  without  one.  And,  besides,  what 
should  he  give  her  ?  Sweets  or  gloves  ?  But  he 
did  not  know  what  size  she  wore — sweets,  then  ? 
But  in  the  town  the  sweets  were  notoriously  nasty, 
therefore  something  else — scent — a  fan?  No,  scent 
would,  he  thought,  be  preferable.  She  liked  "  Ess 
Bouquet,"  so  "  Ess  Bouquet  "  it  should  be.  More- 
over, the  expense  of  the  evening's  picnic.  A  trap 
there  and  back,  "  tip  "  to  Stepan,  incidental  ex- 
penses. "Ah,  my  good  Romashov,  you  won't  do 
it  for  less  than  ten  roubles." 

After  this  he  reviewed  his  resources.  His  month's 
pay — every  copeck  of  that  was  spent  and  receipted. 
Advance  of  pay  perhaps.  Alas,  he  had  tried  that 
way  quite  thirty  times,  but  always  with  an  unhappy 
result.  The  paymaster  to  the  regiment.  Staff - 
Captain  Doroshenko,  was  known  far  and  wide  as  the 
most  disobliging  ■"  swine,"  especially  to  sub -lieu- 
tenants. He  had  taken  part  in  the  Turkish  War, 
and  was  there,  alas  I  wounded  in  the  most  morti- 
fying and  humiliating  spot — in  his  heel.  This  had 
not  happened  .during  retreat,  but  on  an  occasion 
when  he  was  turning  to  his  troops  to  order  an 
attack.  None  the  less  he  was,  on  account  of  his 
ill-omened  wound,  the  object  of  everlasting  flings 
and  sarcasms,  with  the  result  that  Doroshenko,  who 
went  to  the  campaign  a  merry  ensign,  was  now 
changed  into  a  jealous,  irritable  hypochondriac.  No, 
Doroshenko  would  not  advance  a  single  copeck, 
least  of  all  to  a  sub -lieutenant  who,  with  uncommon 


THE    DUEL  171 

eagerness,  had  long  since  drawn  all  the  pay  that 
was  due  to  him. 

"  But  one  need  not  hang  oneself,  I  suppose,  for 
that,"  Romashov  consoled  himself  by  thinking, 
after  he  had  finished  the  foregoing  meditation. 
"  One  must  try  and  borrow.  Let  us  now  take 
the  victims  in  turn.  Well,  the  ist  Company, 
Osadchi?  " 

Before  Romashov's  mind's  eye  appeared  Osadchi's 
peculiar  but  well -formed  features  and  his  heavy, 
brutal  expression.  "  No,  anybody  else  in  the  world 
except  him.  Second  Company,  T^Uman?  Ah,  that 
poor  devil,  who  is  borrowing  all  the  year  round, 
even  from  the  ensigns.  He  won't  do.  Take  another 
name — Khutinski?  " 

But  just  at  that  moment  a  mad  boyish  idea  crossed 
Romashov's  mind.  "  Suppose  I  go  and  borrow 
money  from  the  Colonel  himself.  What  then  would 
be  likely  to  happen?  First  he  would  be  numbed 
with  horror  at  such  a  piece  of  impudence  ;  next 
he  would  begin  trembling  with  rage,  then  he  would 
fire,  as  if  from  a  mortar,  the  words  :  *  Wha — at  I 
Si-lence  I  *  " 

Romashov  burst  out  laughing.  "  How  in  the 
world  can  a  day  that  began  so  happily  as  this  ever 
end  sadly  and  sorrowfully  ?  Yes,  I  don't  know  yet 
how  the  problem  is  to  be  solved,  but  an  inward 
voice  has  told  me  that  all  will  go  well.  Captain 
Duvernois  ?  No,  Duvemois  is  a  skinflint,  and,  be- 
sides, he  can't  bear  me.      I  know  that." 

In  this  way  he  went  through  all  the  officers  of 
his  company,  from  the  first  to  the  sixteenth,  with- 
out getting  a  step  nearer  his  goal.  He  was  just 
about  to  despair  altogether  when  suddenly  a  new 
name  sprang  up  in  his  head — Lieutenant -Colonel 
Rafalski . 


172  THE    DUEL 

**  Rafalski  !  What  an  ass  I  am  1  Hainan,  my 
coat,  gloves,  cap.     Make  haste  !  " 

Lieutenant -Colonel  Rafalski,  commander  of  the 
4th  Battalion,  was  an  incorrigible  old  bachelor,  and, 
in  addition,  a  most  eccentric  character,  who  was 
called  by  his  comrades  "  Colonel  Brehm."  He 
associated  with  no  one,  wa.s  seen  among  the  circle 
of  his  brother  officers  only  on  occasions  of  ceremony, 
i.e.  at  Easter  and  on  New  Year's  Day,  and  he 
neglected  his  duties  to  such  a  degree  that  at  drill 
he  was  the  constant  object  of  furious  invectives 
on  the  part  of  the  higher  authorities.  All  his  time, 
all  his  attention,  and  all  his  unconsumed  funds  of 
love  and  tenderness,  which  he  really  possessed,  were 
devoted  to  his  idolized  proteges,  his  wild  creatures 
— brutes,  birds,  and  fishes,  of  which  he  owned  almost 
an  entire  menagerie.  The  ladies  of  the  regiment, 
who  in  the  depths  of  their  hearts  were  highly  in- 
censed with  Rafalski  for  his  unconcealed  contempt 
of  women,  used  to  say  of  him  :  "  Such  a  dreadful 
man,  and  what  dreadful  animals  he  keeps  !  Such 
dirtiness  in  his  house,  and,  pardon  the  expression, 
what  a  nasty  smell  he  carries  with  him  wherever 
he  goes." 

All  his  savings  went  to  the  menagerie.  This 
most  eccentric  individual  had  succeeded  in  reducing 
his  temporal  needs  to  a  minimum.  He  wore  a 
cap  and  uniform  that  dated  from  prehistoric  times, 
he  slept  and  dwelt  God  knows  how,  he  shared  the 
soldiers'  fare,  and  he  ate  in  the  1 5th  Company's 
kitchen,  towards  the  staff  of  which  he  displayed 
a  certain  liberality.  To  his  comrades — particularly 
the  younger  of  them — he  seldom  refused  a  small 
loan  if  he  was  in  funds,  but  to  remain  in  debt  to 
-"  Colonel  Brehm  "  was  not  regarded  as  comme  il 
faut,  and  he  who  did  so  was  inevitably  .exposed 
to  his  comrades'  ridicule  and  contempt. 


THE    DUEL  173 

Frivolous  and  impudent  individuals  as,  e.g.  Lbov, 
were  occasionally  not  averse  from  extracting  a  few 
silver  roubles  from  Rafalski,  and  they  always  intro- 
duced the  business  by  a  request  to  be  allowed  to 
see  the  menagerie.  This  was  generally  an  infallible 
way  to  the  old  hermit's  heart  and  cash -box.  "  Good 
morning,  Ivan  Antonovich,  have  you  got  any  fresh 
animals  ?  Oh,  how  interesting  1  Come  and  show 
us  them,"  etc.,  in  the  same  style.  After  this  the 
loan  was  a  simple  matter. 

Romashov  had  many  times  visited  Rafalski,  but 
never  up  to  then  with  an  ulterior  motive.  He 
too  was  particularly  fond  of  animals,  and  when 
he  was  a  cadet  at  Moscow,  nay,  even  when  he 
was  a  lad,  he  much  preferred  a  circus  to  a  theatre, 
and  the  zoological  gardens  or  some  menagerie  to 
either.  In  his  dreams  as  a  child  there  always 
hovered  a  St.  Bernard.  Now  his  secret  dream  was 
to  be  appointed  Adjutant  to  a  battalion — so  that 
he  might  become  the  possessor  of  a  horse.  But 
neither  of  his  dreams  was  fulfilled. 

The  poverty  of  his  parents  proved  an  insuperable 
obstacle  to  the  realization  of  the  former,  and,  as 
far  as  his  adjutancy  was  concerned,  his  prospects 
were  exceedingly  small,  as  Romashov  lacked  the 
most  important  qualifications  for  it,  viz.  a  fine  figure 
and  carriage. 

Romashov  went  into  the  street.  A  warm  spring 
breeze  caressed  his  cheeks,  and  the  ground  that 
had  just  dried  after  the  rain  gave  to  his  steps, 
through  its  elasticity,  a  pleasant  feeling  of  buoyancy 
and  power.  Hagberry  and  lilac  pointed  and  nodded 
at  him  with  their  rich -scented  bunches  of  blossom 
over  the  street  fences.  A  suddenly  awakened  joy 
of  life  expanded  his  chest,  and  he  felt  as  if  he 
was  about  to  fly.     After  he  had  looked  round  th€; 


174  THE    DUEL 

•street  and  convinced  himself  that  he  was  alone, 
he  took  Shurochka's  letter  out  of  his  pocket,  read 
it  through  once  more,  and  then  pressed  her  sig- 
nature passionately  to  his  lips. 

"  Oh,  lovely  sky  !  Beautiful  trees  !  "  he  whis- 
pered with  moist  eyes. 

"  Colonel  Brehm  "  lived  at  the  far  end  of  a  great 
enclosure  hedged  round  by  a  green  lattice -like 
hedge.  Over  the  gate  might  be  read  :  "  Ring  the 
bell.     Beware  of  the  dogs  !  " 

Romashov  pulled  the  bell.     The  servant's  sallow, 
sleepy  face  appeared  at  the   wicket. 
"  Is  the  Colonel  at  home?  " 
"  Yes.     Please  step  in,   your   Honour." 
"  No.     Go  and  take  in   my  name  first." 
"It  is  not  necessary.     Walk  in."     The  servant 
sleepily  scratched  his   thigh.      "  The   Colonel   does 
not  like  standing  on  ceremony,   you   know." 

Romashov  strode  on,  and  followed  a  sort  of  path 
of  bricks  which  led  across  the  yard  to  the  house. 
A  couple  of  enormous,  mouse -coloured  young  bull- 
dogs ran  out  of  a  corner,  and  one  of  them  greeted 
him  with  a  rough  but  not  unfriendly  bark.  Romas- 
hov snapped  his  fingers  at  it,  which  was  answered 
in  delight  by  awkward,  frolicsonne  leaps  and  still 
noisier  barking.  The  other  bull -dog  followed  closely 
on  Romashov's  heels,  and  sniffed  with  curiosity  be- 
tween the  folds  of  his  cape.  Far  away  in  the  court, 
where  the  tender,  light  green  grass  had  already 
sprouted  up,  stood  a  little  donkey  philosophizing, 
blinking  in  delight  at  the  sun,  and  lazily  twitching 
its  long  ears.  Here  and  there  waddled  ducks  of 
variegated  hues,  fowls  and  Chinese  geese  with  large 
excrescences  over  their  bills.  A  bevy  of  peacocks 
made  their  ear-spUtting  cluck  heard,  and  a  huge 
turkey-cock  with  traiUng  wings  and  tail-feathers  high 


THE    DUEL  175 

in  the  air  was  courting  the  favourite  sultana  of 
his  harem.  A  massive  pink  sow  of  genuine  York- 
shire breed  "wallowed  majestically  in  a  hole. 

'*  Colonel  Brehm/'  dressed  in  a  Swedish  leather 
jacket,  stood  at  a  window  with  his  back  to  the 
door,  and  he  did  not  notice  Romashov  as  the  latter 
entered  the  room.  He  was  very  busy  with  his 
glass  aquarium,  into  which  he  plunged  one  arm 
up  to  the  elbow,  and  he  was  so  absorbed  by  this 
occupation  that  Romashov  was  obhged  to  cough 
loudly  twice  before  Rafalski  turned  round  and  pre- 
sented his  long,  thin,  unshaven  face  and  a  pair  of 
old-fashioned  spectacles  with  tortoise-shell  rims. 

' '  Ah,  ha  —  what  do  I  see  ? — Sub  -  lieutenant 
Romashov?  Very  welcome,  very  welcome  !  "  rang 
his  friendly  greeting.  -*  Excuse  my  not  being  able 
to  shake  hands,  but,  as  you  see,  I  am  quite  wet. 
I  am  now  testing  a  new  siphon.  I  have  simpli- 
fied the  apparatus,  which  will  act  splendidly.  Will 
you  have  some  tea?  ^' 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  but  I  have 
just  breakfasted.     I  have  come,   Colonel,  to " 

'"  Of  course  you  have  heard  the  rumour  that  our 
regiment  is  to  be  moved  to  garrison  another  town," 
interrupted  Rafalski,  in  a  tone  as  if  he  had  only 
restuned  a  conversation  just  dropped.  "  You  may 
well  imagine  my  despair.  How  shall  I  manage  to 
transport  all  my  fishes  ?  At  least  half  of  them 
will  die  on  the  journey.  And  this  aquarium  too  ; 
look  at  it  yourself.  Wholly  of  glass  and  a  yard 
and  a  half  long.  Ah,  my  dear  fellow  "  (here 
he  suddenly  sprang  into  a  wholly  different  train 
of  thought),  "  what  an  aquarium  they  have  in 
Sebastopol  I  A  cistern  of  continually  flowing  sea- 
water,  big  as  this  room,  and  entirely  of  stone.  And 
lighted   by  ielectricity    too.      You    stand   and    gaze 


>^- 


^t 


m      .* 


176  THE    DUEL 

down  on  all  those  wonderful  fishes — sturgeons, 
sharks,  rays,  sea-cocks — nay,  God  forgive  me  my 
sins  !  sea-cats,  I  mean.  Imagine  in  your  mind  a 
gigantic  pancake,  an  arshin  '  and  a  half  in  diameter, 
which  moves  and  wags — and  behind  it  a  tail  shaped 
like  an  arrow.  My  goodness,  I  istood  there  staring 
for  a  couple  of  hours — but  what  are  you  laugh- 
ing at  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  ^ust  noticed  a  little 
white  rat  sitting  on  your  shoulder." 

"  Oh,  you  little  rascal  I  Who  gave  you  leave  ?  " 
Rafalski  twisted  his  head  and  produced  with  his 
lips  a  whistling  but  extraordinarily  delicate  sound 
that  was  remarkably  like  the  cheeping  noise  of  a 
rat.  The  little  white,  red -eyed  beast,  trembling 
all  over  its  body,  snuggled  up  to  Rafalski 's  cheek, 
and  began  groping  with  its  nose  rafter  its  master's 
mouth  and  chin -tuft. 

"  How  tame  your  animals  are,  and  how  well 
they  know  you  I  "    exclaimed  Romashov. 

"  Yes,  they  always  know  me  well  enough,"  replied 
Rafalski.  After  this  he  drew  a  deep  sigh  and 
sorrowfully  shook  his  grey  head.  "  It  is  unfortu- 
nate that  mankind  troubles  itself  and  knows  so  little 
about  animals.  We  have  trained  and  tamed  for 
our  use  or  good  pleasure  the  dog,  the  horse,  and 
the  cat,  but  how  much  do  we  kn,ow  about  the  real 
nature  and  being  of  these  animals?  Now  and  then, 
of  course,  some  professor — a  marvel  of  Idarning — 
comes  along — may  the  devil  devour  them  all  ! — and 
talks  a  lot  of  antediluvian  rubbish  that  no  sensible 
person  either  understands  or  has  the  least  profit 
from.  Moreover,  he  gives  the  poor  innocent  beasts 
a  number  of  Latin  nicknamles  as  idiotic  as  they 
are  unnecessary,  and  to  crown  it  all,  he  has  thei 
»  Arshin  «=  2*33  feet. 


THE    DUEL  177 

impudencie  to  demand  to  be  immortalized  for  all 
this  tomfoolery,  and  pretty  nearly  venerated  as  a 
saint.  But  what  can  he  teach  us,  and  what  does 
he  know  himself,  of  animals  and  their  inner  life? 
No  1  take  any  dog  you  like,  live  together  with 
it  for  a  time,  side  by  side,  and,  by  the  study  of 
this  intelligent,  reflecting  creature,  you  will  get  more 
matter  for  your  psychology  than  all  the  professors 
and  teachers  could  dream." 

"  But  perhaps  there  are  works  of  that  natiire, 
though  we  do  not  yet  know  them?  "  suggested 
Romashov  shyly. 

"  Books,  did  you  say?  Yes,  of  course,  there  are 
plenty.  Just  glance  over  there.  I  have  a  whole 
library  of  them.'' 

Rafalski  pointed  to  a  long  row  of  shelves  standing 
along  the  walls.  "  Those  learned  gentlemen  write 
a  whole  lot  of  clever  things,  and  show  great  pro- 
fundity in  their  studies.  Yes,  their  learning  is  abso- 
lutely overwhelming.  What  wonderfiil  scientific 
instruments,  and  what  acuteness  of  intellect  I  But 
all  that  is  quite  different  from  what  I  mean.  Not 
one  of  all  these  great  celebrities  has  hit  upon  the 
idea  of  observing  carefully,  only  for  a  single  day, 
for  instance,  a  dog  or  cat  in  its  private  life.  And 
yet  how  interesting  and  instructive  that  is.  To 
watch  closely  how  a  dog  lives,  thinks,  intrigues, 
makes  itself  happy  or  miserable.  Just  think,  for 
example,  what  all  those  clowns  and  showmen  can 
effect.  One  might  sometimes  think  that  one  was 
subjected  to  an  extraordinary  hypnosis.  Never  in 
all  my  life  shall  I  forget  a  clown  I  saw  in  the 
hotel  at  Kiev — a  mere  clown,.  What  results  might 
have  been  attained  by  a  scientifically  educated  in- 
vestigator, armed  with  all  the  wonderful  apparatus 
and  resources  of  our  time  !     What  interesting  things 

12 


178  THE    DUEL 

one  might  hear  about  a  dog's  psychology,  his 
character,  docility,  etc.  A  new  world  of  marvels 
would  be  opened  to  human  knowledge.  For  my 
part,  you  should  know  that  I  am  quite  certain 
that  dogs  possess  a  language  and,  moreover,  a 
very  rich  and  developed  speech." 

"  But,  Ivan  Antonovich,  tell  me  why  the  learned 
have  never  made  such  an  attempt?"  asked 
Romashov. 

Rafalski   replied  by  a  sarcastic   smile. 

"  He,  he,  he  !  the  thing  is  clear  enough.  What 
do  you  suppose  a  dog  is  to  such  a  learned  big- 
wig ?  A  vertebrate  animal,  a  mammal,  a  carnivorous 
animal,  etc.,  and  that's  the  end  of  it.  Nothing 
more.  How  could  he  condescend  to  treat  a  dog  as  if 
it  were  an  intelligent,  rational  being  ?  Never.  No, 
these  haughty  university  despots  are  in  reality  but 
a  trifle  higher  than  the  peasant  who  thought  that 
the  dog  had  steam  instead  of  a  soul." 

He  stopped  short  and  began  snorting  and 
splashing  angrily  whilst  he  fussed  and  fumed  with 
a  gutta-percha  tube  that  he  was  trying  to  apply  to 
the  bottom  of  the  aquarium.  Romashov  summoned 
all  his  courage,  made  a  violent  effort  of  will,  and 
succeeded  in  blurting  out — 

"  Ivan  Antonovich,  I  have  come  on  an  important 
— very  important  business " 

"Money?" 

**  Yes,  I  am  ashamed  to  trouble  you.  I  don't 
require  much — only  ten  roubles — but  I  can't  promise 
to  repay  you  just  yet." 

Ivan  Aiitonovich  pulled  his  hands  out  of  the  water 
and  began  slowly  to  dry  them  on  a  towel. 

"  I  can  manage  ten  roubles — I  have  not  more, 
but  these  I'll  lend  you  with  the  greatest  pleasure. 
You're  wanting  to  be  off,  I  suppose,  on  some  spree 


THE    DUEL  179 

or  dissipation?  Well,  well,  don't  be  offended  ;  I'm 
merely  jesting.     Come,  let  us  go." 

"  Colonel  Brehm  "  took  Romashov  through  his 
suite  of  apartments,  which  consisted  of  five  or  six 
rooms,  in  which  every  trace  of  furniture  and  curtains 
was  lacking.  Everywhere  one's  nose  was  assailed 
by  the  curious,  pungent  odour  that  is  always  rife 
in  places  where  small  animals  are  freely  allowed 
to  run  riot.  The  floors  were  so  filthy  that  one 
stumbled  at  nearly  every  step.  In  all  the  corners, 
small  holes  and  lairs,  formed  of  wooden  boxes, 
hollow  stubble,  empty  casks  without  bottoms,  etc., 
etc.,  were  arranged.  Trees  with  bending  branches 
stood  in  another  room.  The  one  room  was  intended 
for  birds,  the  other  for  squirrels  and  martens.  All 
the  arrangements  witnessed  to  a  love  of  animals, 
careful  attention,  and  a  great  faculty  for  observation. 

"  Look  here,"  Rafalski  pointed  to  a  little  cage, 
surrounded  by  a  thick  railing  of  barbed  wire  ;  from 
the  semicircular  opening,  which  was  no  larger  than 
the  bottom  of  a  drinking-glass,  glowed  two  small, 
keen  black  eyes.  "  That's  a  polecat,  the  cruellest 
and  most  bloodthirsty  beast  in  creation.  You  may 
not  believe  me,  but  it's  none  the  less  true,  that,  in 
comparison  with  it,  the  lion  and  panther  are  as  tame 
as  lambs.  When  a  lion  has  eaten  his  thirty-four 
pounds  or  so  of  flesh,  and  is  resting  after  his  meal, 
he  looks  on  good-humouredly  at  the  jackals  gorging 
on  the  remains  of  the  banquet.  But  if  that  little 
brute  gets  into  a  hen-house  it  does  not  spare  a  single 
life.  There  are  no  limits  to  its  murderous  instinct, 
and,  besides,  it  is  the  wildest  beast  in  the  world 
and  the  one  hardest  to  tame.  Fie,  you  little 
monster." 

Rafalski  put  his  hand  behind  the  bars,  and  at 
once,  in  the  narrow  outlet  to  the  cage,  an  open  jaw 


i8o  THE    DUEL 

with  sharp,  white  teeth  was  displayed.  The  polecat 
accompanied  its  rapid  movements  backwards  and 
forwards   by  a  spiteful,   cough-like  sound. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  such  a  nasty  brute?  And 
yet  I  myself  have  fed  it  every  day  for  a  whole 
year." 

"  Colonel  Brehm  "  had  now  evidently  forgotten 
Romashov's  business.  He  took  him  from  cage  to 
cage,  and  showed  him  all  his  favourites,  and  he 
spoke  with  as  much  enthusiasm,  knowledge,  and 
tenderness  of  the  animals'  tempers  and  habits,  as 
if  the  question  concerned  his  oldest  and  most  inti- 
mate friends.  Rafalski's  collection  of  animals  was 
really  an  extraordinarily  large  and  fine  one  for  a 
private  individual  to  own,  who  was,  moreover,  com- 
pelled to  live  in  an  out-of-the-way  and  wretched 
provincial  bole.  There  were  rabbits,  white  rats, 
otters,  hedgehogs,  marmots,  several  venomous  snakes 
in  glass  cases,  ant-bears,  several  sorts  of  monkeys, 
a  black  Australian  hare,  and  an  exceedingly,  fine 
specimen  of  an  Angora  cat. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say  to  this?  "  asked  Rafalski, 
as  he  exhibited  the  cat.  "  Isn't  he  charming?  And 
yet  he  does  not  stand  high  in  my  favour,  for  he  is 
awfully  stupid — much  more  stupid  than  our  ordinary 
cats."  Rafalski  then  exclaimed  hotly  :  "  Another 
proof  of  the  little  we  know  and  how  wrongly  we 
value  our  ordinary  domestic  animals.  What  do  we 
know  about  the  cat,  horse,  cow,  and  pig?  The  pig 
is  a  remarkably  clever  animal.  You're  laughing, 
I  see,  but  wait  and  you  shall  hear."  (Romashov 
had  not  shown  the  least  signs  of  amusement.) 
"  Last  year  I  had  in  my  possession  a  wild  boar 
which  invented  the  following  trick.  I  had  got  home 
from  the  sugar  factory  four  bushels  of  waste,  in- 
tended for  my  pigs  and  hot-beds.     Well,   my  big 


THE    DUEL  i8i 

boar  could  not,  of  course,  wait  patiently.  Whilst 
the  foreman  went  to  find  my  servant,  the  boar  with 
his  tusks  tore  the  bung  out  of  the  cask,  and,  in  a 
few  seconds,  was  in  his  seventh  heaven.  What  do 
you  say  of  a  chap  like  that  ?  But  listen  further  " — 
Rafalski  peered  out  of  one  eye,  and  assumed  a 
crafty  expression — "  I  am  at  present  engaged  in 
writing  a  treatise  on  my  pigs — for  God's  sake,  not 
a  whisper  of  this  to  any  one.  Just  fancy  if  people 
got  to  hear  that  a  Lieutenant- Colonel  in  the  glorious 
Russian  Army  was  writing  a  book,  and  one  about 
pigs  into  the  bargain  ;  but  the  fact  is,  I  managed 
to  obtain  a  genuine  Yorkshire  sow.  Have  you  seen 
her?  Come,  let  me  show  you  her.  Besides,  I  have 
down  in  the  yard  a  young  beagle,  the  dearest  little 
beast.      Come  I  " 

"  Pardon  me,  Ivan  Antonovich,"  stammered 
Romashov,  "  I  should  be  only  too  pleased  to 
accompany  you,  but — but  I  really  haven't  the  time 
now." 

Rafalski  struck  his  forehead  with  the  palm  of  his 
hand. 

"  Oh,  yes,  what  an  incorrigible  old  gossip  I  am. 
Excuse  me — I'll  go  and  get  it — come  along," 

They  went  into  a  little  bare  room  in  which  there 
was  literally  nothing  but  a  low  tent-bedstead  which, 
with  its  bottom  composed  of  a  sheet  hanging  down 
to  the  floor,  reminded  one  of  a  boat  ;  a  little  night- 
table,  and  a  chair  without  a  back.  Rafalski  pulled 
out  a  drawer  of  the  little  table  and  produced  the 
money. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  be  able  to  help  you,  ensign, 
very  glad.  If  you  please,  no  thanks  or  such 
nonsense.  It's  a  pleasure,  you  know.  Look  me 
up  when  convenient,  and  we'll  have  a  chat. 
Good-bye." 


1 82  THE    DUEL 

When  Romashov  reached  the  street,  he  ran  into 
Viatkin.  Pavel  Pavlich's  moustaches  were  twisted 
up  ferociously,  d  la  Kaiser,  and  his  regimental  cap;. 
stuck  on  one  side  in  a  rakish  manner,  lay  carelessly 
thrown  on  one  ear. 

"  Ha,  look  at  Prince  Hamlet,"  shouted  Viatkin, 
"  whence  and  whither?  You're  beaming  like  a  man 
in  luck." 

"  Yes,  that's  exactly  what  I  am,"  replied 
Romashov  smilingly. 

"  Ah -ah  !  splendid  ;  come  and  give  me  a  big  hug." 

With  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  they  fell  into  each 
other's  arms  in  the  open  street. 

"  Ought  we  not  to  celebrate  this  remarkable  event 
by  just  a  peep  into  the  mess-room?  "  proposed 
Viatkin.  **  '  Come  and  take  a  nip  in  the  deepest 
loneliness,*  as  our  noble  friend  Artschakovski  is 
fond  of  saying." 

"  Impossible,  Pavel  Pavlich,  I  am  in  a  hurry. 
But  what's  up  with  you?  You  seem  to-day  as  if 
you  meant  kicking  over  the  traces?" 

"  Yes,  rather,  that's  quite  on  the  cards,"  Viatkin 
stuck  his  chin  out  significantly.  "  To-day  I  have 
brought  off  a  '  combination  '  so  ingenious  that  it 
would  make  our  Finance  Minister  green  with  envy." 

"Really?" 

Viatkin 's  "  combination  "  appeared  simple  enough, 
but  testified,  however,  to  a  certain  ingenuity.  The 
chief  rvle  in  the  affair  was  played  by  Khaim,  the 
regimental  tailor,  who  took  from  Pavel  Pavlich  a 
receipt  for  a  uniform  supposed  to  have  been  de- 
livered, but,  instead  of  that,  handed  over  to  Viatkin 
thirty  roubles  in  cash. 

"  The  best  of  it  all  is,"  exclaimed  Viatkin,  "  that 
both  Khaim  and  I  are  equally  satisfied  with  the  deal. 
The  Jew  gave  me  thirty  roubles  a,nd  became  entitled 


THE    DUEL  1 8^ 

through  my  receipt  to  draw  forty-five  from  the 
clothing  department's  treasury.  I  am  at  last  once 
more  in  a  position  to  chuck  away  a  few  coppers 
at  mess.     A  masterstroke,  eh?" 

"  Viatkin,  you're  a  great  man,  and  another  time 
I'll  bear  in  mind  your  *  patent.'  But  good-bye  for 
the  present.  I  hope  you  will  have  good  luck  at 
cards."  They  separated,  but,  after  a  minute,  Viatkin 
called  out  to  his  comrade  again.  Romashov  stopped 
and  turned  round, 

"Have  you  been  to  the  menagerie?"  asked 
Viatkin,  with  a  cunning  wink,  making  a  gesture  in 
the  direction  of  Rafalski's  house. 

Romashov  replied  by  a  nod,  and  said  in  a  tone  of 
conviction,  "  Brehm  is  a  downright  good  fellow — the 
best  of  the  lot  of  us." 

"  You're  right,"  agreed  Viatkin,  "  bar  that  fright- 
ful smell." 


XII 

When  Romashov  reached  Nikolaiev's  house  about 
five  o'clock,  he  noticed  with  surprise  that  his  happy 
humour  of  the  morning  and  confidence  that  the 
day  would  be  a  success  had  given  place  to  an 
inexpUcable,  painful  nervousness.  He  felt  assured 
that  this  nervousness  had  not  come  over  him  aU  at 
once,  but  had  begun  much  earlier  in  the  day,  though 
he  did  not  know  when.  It  was  likewise  clear  to 
him  that  this  feeling  of  nervousness  had  gradually 
and  imperceptibly  crept  over  him.  What  did  it 
mean  ?  But  such  incidents  were  not  new  to  Jiim  ; 
even  from  his  early  childhood  he  had  experienced 
them,  and  he  knew,  too,  that  he  would  not  regain 
his  mental  balance  until  he  had  discovered  the  cause 
of  the  disturbance.  He  remembered,  for  instance, 
how  he  had  worried  himself  for  a  whole  day,  and 
that  it  was  not  till  evening  that  he  called  to  mind 
that,  in  the  forenoon,  when  passing  a  railway  cross- 
ing, he  had  been  startled  and  alarmed  by  ^  train 
rushing  past,  and  this  had  disturbed  his  balance. 
Directly,  however,  the  cause  was  discovered  he  at 
once  became  happy  and  light-hearted.  The  question 
now  was  to  review  in  inverted  order  the  events  and 
experiences  of  the  day.  S^vidierski's  millinery  shop 
and  its  perfumes  ;  the  hire  and  payment  of  Leib, 
tlie  best  cab-driver  in  the  town,;    the  visit  to   the 


THE    DUEL  185 

post-office  to  set  his  watch  correctly.;  the  lovely 
morning;  Stepan?  No,  impossible.  In  Romashov's 
pocket  lay  a  rouble  laid  by  for  him.  But  what 
could  it  be  then? 

In  the  street,  opposite  to  the  Nikolaievs',  stood 
three  two -horse  carriages,  and  two  soldiers  held 
by  the  reins  a  couple  of  saddle-horses — the  one, 
Olisdr's,  a  dark -brown  old  gelding,  newly  purchased 
from  a  cavalry  officer  ;  the  other  Biek-Agamalov's 
chestnut  mare,   with   fierce  bright   eyes. 

"  I  know  I  The  letter  I  "  flashed  through  Romas- 
hov's brain.  That  strange  expression  "  in  spite 
of  that  " — what  could  it  mean?  That  Nikolaiev  was 
angry  or  jealous  ?  Perhaps  mischief  had  been  made. 
Nikolaiev 's  manner  had  certainly  been  rather  cold 
lately. 

"  Drive  on  1  "  he  shouted  to  the  driver. 

At  that  moment,  though  he  had  neither  seen  nor 
heard  anything,  he  knew  that  the  door  of  the  house 
had  opened,  he  knew  it  by  the  sweet  and  stormy 
beating  of  his  heart. 

"  Romochka  I  where  are  you  going?"  he  heard 
Alexandra  Petrovna's  clear,  happy  voice  behind  him. 

Romashov,  by  a  strong  pull,  drew  the  driver, 
who  was  sitting  opposite  him,  back  by  the  girdle, 
and  jumped  out  of  the  fly.  Shurochka  stood  in 
the  open  door  as  if  she  were  framed  in  a  dark  room. 
She  wore  a  smooth  white  dress  with  red  flowers  in 
the  sash.  The  same  sort  of  red  flowers  were 
twined  in  her  hair.  How  wonderful  !  Romashov 
felt  instantly  and  infallibly  that  this  was  she^  but, 
nevertheless,  did  not  recognize  her.  To  him  it 
was  a  new  revelation,   radiant  and  in   festal  array. 

•While  Romashov  was  mumbling  his  felicitations, 
Shurochka  forced  him,  without  letting  go  his 
hands,  softly  and  with  gentle  violence,  to  enter  the 


1 86  THE    DUEL 

gloomy  hall  with  her.  At  the  same  time  she  uttered 
half-aloud,   in   a   hurried    and    nervous    tone — 

"  Thanks,  Romochka,  for  coming.  Ah,  how  much 
I  was  afraid  that  you  would  plead  some  excuse  1 
But  remember  now,  to-day  you  are  to  be  joUy  and 
amiable.  Don't  do  anything  which  will  attract  atten- 
tion. Now,  how  absurd  you  are  I  Directly  any 
one  touches  you,  you  shrivel  up  like  a  sensitive- 
plant." 

"  Alexandra  Petrovna,  your  letter  has  upset  me. 
There  is  an  expression  you  make  use  of.   .    .   ." 

"  My  dear  boy  !  what  nonsense  !  "  she  grasped 
both  his  hands  and  pressed  them  hard,  gazing  into 
the  depths  of  his  eyes.  In  that  glance  of  hers 
there  was  something  which  Romashov  had  never 
seen  before — a  caressing  tenderness,  an  intensity, 
and  something  besides,  which  he  could  not  interpret. 
In  the  mysterious  depths  of  her  dark  pupils  fixed 
so  long  and  earnestly  on  him  he  read  a  strange, 
elusive  significance,  a  message  uttered  in  the  mys- 
terious language  pf  the  soul. 

"  Please — don't  let  us  talk  of  this  to-day  I  No 
doubt  you  wiU  be  pleased  to  hear  that  I  have 
been  watching  for  you.  I  know  what  a  coward 
you  are,  you  see.  Don't  you  dare  to  look  at  me 
like  that,  now  I  " 

She  laughed  in  some  confusion  and  released  his 
hands. 

"  That  wiU  do  now — Romochka,  you  awkward 
creature  !  again  you've  forgotten  to  kiss  my  hand. 
That's  right  !  Now  the  other.  But  don't  forget," 
she  added  in  a  hot  whisper,  *"  that  to-day  is  our  day. 
Tsarina  Alexandra  and  her  trusty  knight,  Georgi. 
Come." 

*'  One  instant — ^look  here  —you'll  allow  me  ?  It's 
^  very  modest  ^ift," 


THE    DUEL  187 

"  What  ?  Scent  ?  What  nonsense  is  this  ?  No, 
forgive  me  ;  I'm  only  joking.  Thanks,  thanks,  dear 
Romochka.  Volodya,"  she  called  out  loudly  in  an 
unconstrained  tone  as  she  entered  the  room,  "  here 
is  another  friend  to  join  us   in  our  little   picnic." 

As  is  always  the  case  before  dispersing  for  a 
general  excursion,  there  was  much  noise  and  con- 
fusion in  the  drawing-room.  The  thick  tobacco 
smoke  formed  here  and  there  blue  eddies  when  met 
by  the  sunbeams  on  its  way  out  of  the  window. 
Seven  or  eight  officers  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  in  animated  conversation.  The  loudest  among 
them  was  the  hoarse-voiced  Taliman  with  his 
everlasting  cough.  There  were  Captain  Osadchi 
and  the  two  inseparable  Adjutants,  Olisdr  and  Biek- 
Agamalov  ;  moreover,  Lieutenant  Andrusevich — a 
little,  lithe,  and  active  man,  who,  in  his  sharp-nosed 
physiognomy,  resembled  a  rat — and  Sofia  Pavlovna 
Taliman,  who,  smiling,  powdered,  and  painted,  sat, 
like  a  dressed-up  doll,  in  the  middle  of  the  sofa, 
between  Ensign  Michin's  two  sisters.  These  girls 
were  very  prepossessing  in  their  simple,  home-made 
but  tasteful  dresses  with  white  and  green  ribbons. 
They  were  both  dark-eyed,  black -haired,  with  a  few 
summer  freckles  on  their  fresh^  rosy  cheeks.  Both 
had  dazzUngly  white  teeth  which,  perhaps  from  their 
not  irreproachable  form  arid  evenness,  gave  the  fresh 
Ups  a  particular,  curious  charm.  Both  were  extra- 
ordinarily like,  not  only  each  other,  but  also  their 
brother,  although  the  latter  was  certainly  not  a 
**  beauty "  man.  Of  the  ladies  belonging  to  the 
regiment  who  were  invited  were  Mrs.  Andrusevich 
— a  little,  fat,  podgy,  simple,  laughing  woman,  very 
much  addicted  to  doubtful  anecdotes — ^and,  lastly, 
the  really  pretty,  but  gossiping  and  lisping,  Misses 
Lykatsch^v. 


1 88  THE    DUEL 

As  is  always  the  case  at  military  parties,  the 
ladies  formed  a  circle  by  themselves.  Quite  near 
them,  and  sitting  by  himself,  Staff- Captain  Ditz, 
the  coxcomb,  was  lolling  indolently  in  an  easy  chair. 
This  officer,  who,  with  his  tight-laced  figure  and 
aristocratic  looks,  strongly  reminded  one  of  the  well- 
known  Fliegende  Blatter  type  of  lieutenants,  had 
been  cashiered  from  the  Guards  on  account  of  some 
mysterious,  scandalous  story.  He  distinguished  him- 
self by  his  unfailing  ironical  confidence  in  his 
intercourse  with  men,  and  his  audacious  boldness 
with  women,  and  he  pursued,  carefully  and  very 
lucratively,  card-playing  on  a  big  scale,  not,  how- 
ever, in  the  mess-room,  but  in  the  Townsmen's 
Club,  with  the  civilian  officials  of  the  place,  as  well 
as  with  the  Polish  landowners  in  the  neighbourhood. 
Nobody  in  the  regiment  Uked  him,  but  he  was 
feared,  and  all  felt  within  themselves  a  certain  rough 
conviction  that  some  day  a  terrible,  dirty  scandal 
would  bring  Ditz's  military  career  to  an  abrupt 
conclusion.  It  was  reported  that  he  had  a  liaison 
with  the  young  wife  of  an  old,  retired  Staff -Captain 
who  Uved  in  the  town,  and  also  that  he  was  very 
friendly  with  Madame  Taliman.  It  was  also  purely 
for  her  sake  he  was  invited  to  officers'  families, 
according  to  the  curious  conceptions  of  good  tone 
and  good  breeding  that  still  hold  sway  in  military 
circles . 

"  Delighted — delighted  !  "  was  Nikolaiev's  greet- 
ing as  he  went  up  to  Romashov.  "  Why  didn't 
you  come  this  morning  and  taste  our  pasty  ?  " 

Nikolaiev  uttered  all  this  in  a  very  jovial  and 
friendly  tone,  but  in  his  voice  and  glance  Romas- 
hov noticed  the  same  cold,  artificial,  and  harsh 
expression  which  he  had  felt  almost  unconsciously 
lately. 


THE    DUEL  189 

"  He  does  not  like  me,"  thought  Romashov.  *-  But 
what  is  the  matter  with  him?  Is  he  angry — ^or 
jealous,    or   have    I    bored    him   to   death  ? " 

"  As  you  perhaj>s  are  aware,  we  had  inspection  of 
rifles  in  our  company  this  morning,"  lied  Romashov 
boldly.  "  When  the  Great  Inspection  approaches, 
one  is  never  free  either  Sundays  or  week-days, 
you  know.  However,  may  I  candidly  admit  that 
I  am  a  trifle  embarrassed  ?  I  did  not  know  in 
the  least  that  you  were  giving  a  picnic.  I  invited 
myself,  so  to  speak.  And  truly,  I  feel  some 
qualms " 

Nikolaiev  smiled  broadly,  and  clapped  Romashov 
on  the  shoulder   with   almost   insulting   familiarity. 

"  How  you  talk,  my  friend  !  The  more  the 
merrier,  and  we  don't  want  any  Chinese  ceremonies 
here.  But  there  is  one  awkward  thing — I  mean, 
will  there  be  sufficient  carriages?  But  we  shall  be 
able  to  manage   something." 

"  I  brought  my  own  trap,"  said  Romashov,  to 
calm  him,  whilst  he,  quite  unnoticeably,  released 
his  shoulder  from  Nikolaiev 's  caressing  hand,  "  and 
I  shall  be  very  pleased  to  put  it  at  your  service." 

Romashov  turned  round  and  met  Shurochka's  eye. 
"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  her  ardent,  curiously 
intent  look. 

"  How  strange  she  is  to-day,"-  thought  Romashov. 

"  That's  capital  !  "  Nikolaiev  looked  at  his 
watch.  "What  do  you  say,  gentlemen;  shall  we 
start?  " 

'-  '  Let  us  start,'  said  the  jjarrot  when  the  cat 
dragged  it  out  of  its  cage  by  the  tail,"  said  Ohsdr 
jokingly. 

All  got  up,  noisy  and  laughing.  The  ladies  went 
in  search  of  their  hats  and  parasols,  and  began 
to   put   on   their    gloves.       Taliman,    who   suffered 


190  THE    DUEL 

frorri  bronchitis,  croaked  and  screamed  that,  above 
everything,  the  company  should  wrap  up  well  ;  but 
his  voice  was  drowned  in  the  noise  and  confusion. 
Little  Michin  took  Romashov  aside  and  said  to 
him — 

"  Yuri  Alexievich,  I  have  a  favour  to  ask  you. 
Let  my  sisters  ride  in  your  carriage,  otherwise  Ditz 
will  come  and  force  his  society  on  them — a  thing  I 
would  prevent  at  any  price.  He  is  in  the  habit 
of  conversing  with  young  girls  in  such  a  way  that 
they  can  hardly  restrain  their  tears  of  shame  and 
indignation.  I  am  not,  God  knows  !  a  man  fond 
of  violence,  but  some  day  I  shall  give  that  scoundrel 
what  he  deserves." 

Romashov  would  naturally  have  much  liked  to 
ride  with  Shurochka,  but  Michin  had  always  been 
his  friend,  and  it  was  impossible  to  withstand  the 
im'ploring  look  of  those  clear,  true-hearted  eyes. 
Besides,  Romashov  was  so  full  of  joy  at  that 
moment  that  he  could  not  refuse. 

At  last,  after  much  noise  and  fun,  they  were  all 
seated  in  the  carriages.  Romashov  had  kept  his 
word,  and  sat  stowed  away  between  the  two  Michin 
girls.  Only  Staff -Captain  Lieschtschenko,  whose 
presence  Romashov  now  noticed  for  the  first  time, 
kept  wandering  here  and  there  among  the  carriages 
with  a  countenance  more  doleful  and  woebegone 
than  ever.  All  avoided  him  like  the  plague.  At 
last  Romashov  took  pity  and  called  to  him,  and 
offered  him  a  place  on  the  box-seat  of  his  trap. 
The  Staff- Captain  thankfully  accepted  the  invitation, 
fixed  on  Romashov  a  long,  grateful  look  from  sad, 
moist  dog's  eyes,  and  climbed  up  with  a  sigh  to 
the  box. 

They  started.  At  their  head  rode  Olisdr  on  his 
lazy,  old  horse,  repeatedly  performing  clown  tricks, 


THE    DUEL  191 

and  bawling*  out  a  hackneyed  operetta  air  :    *'  Up 
on  the  roof  of  the  omnibus, "  etc. 

"  Quick — march  I  "  rang  Osadchi's  stentorian 
voice.  The  cavalcade  increased  its  pace,  and 
was  gradually  lost  sight  of  amidst  the  dust  of  the 
high  road. 


XIII 

The  picnic  gave  no  promise  of  being  anything 
like  so  pleasant  and  cheerful  as  one  might  have 
expected  from  the  party's  high  spirits  at  the  start. 
After  driving  three  versts,  they  halted  and  got  out 
at  Dubetschnaia.  By,  this  name  was  designated 
a  piece  of  ground  hardly  fifteen  dessyatins  in 
extent,  which,  sparsely  covered  with  proud,  century - 
old  oaks,  slowly  slanted  down  towards  the  strand 
of  a  little  river.  Close  thickets  of  bushes  were 
arrayed  beside  the  mighty  trees,  and  these,  here 
and  there,  formed  a  charming  frame  for  the  small 
open  spaces  covered  by  the  fresh  and  delicate 
greenery  of  spring.  In  a  similar  idyllic  spot  in 
the  oak-woods,  servants  and  footmen,  sent  on  in 
advance,   waited   with    samovars   and    baskets. 

The  company  assembled  around  the  white  table- 
cloths spread  on  the  grass.  The  ladies  produced 
plates  and  cold  meat,  and  the  gentlemen  helped 
them,  amidst  jokes  and  flirtations.  Olisdr  dressed 
himself  up  as  a  cook  by  putting  on  a  couple  of 
serviettes  as  cap  and  apron.  After  much  fun  and 
ceremony,  the  difficult  problem  of  placing  the  guests 
was  solved,  in  which  entered  the  indispensable 
condition  that  the  ladies  should  have  a  gentleman 
on  each  side.  The  guests  half-reclined  or  half-sat 
in  rather  uncomfortable  positions,  which  was  appre- 
ciated by  all  as  being  something  new  and  interesting, 

192 


THE    DUEL  193 

and  which  finally  caused  the  ever-silent  Liescht- 
schenko  to  astonish  those  present,  amidst  general 
laughter,  by  the  following  famous  utterance  :  "  Here 
we  lie,  just  like  the  old  Greek  Romlans." 

Shurochka  had  on  one  side  Taliman,  on  the 
other  side  Romashov.  She  was  unusually  cheerful 
and  talkative,  nay,  sometimes  in  such  high  spirits 
that  the  attention  of  many  was  called  to  it. 
Romashov  had  never  found  her  so  bewitching 
before.  He  thought  he  noticed  in  her  something 
new,  something  emotional  and  passionate,  which 
feverishly  sought  an  outlet.  Sometimes  she  turned 
without  a  word  to  Romashov  and  gazed  at  him 
intently  for  half  a  second  longer  than  was  strictly 
proper,  and  he  felt  then  that  a  force,  mysterious, 
consuming,  and  overpowering,  gleamed  from  her 
eyes. 

Osadchi,  who  sat  by  himself  at  the  end  of  the 
improvised  table,  got  on  his  knees.  After 
tapping  his  knife  against  the  glass  and  requesting 
silence,  he  said,  in  a  deep  bass  voice,  the  heavy 
waves  of  sound  from  which  vibrated  in  the  pure 
woodland  air — 

"  Gentlemen,  let  us  quaff  the  first  beaker  in 
honour  of  our  fair  hostess,  whose  name-day  it  is. 
May  God  vouchsafe  her  every  good — and  the  rank 
of  a  General's   consort." 

And  after  he  had  raised  the  great  glass,  he 
shouted  with  all  the  force  of  his  powerful  voice — 

"  Hurrah  1" 

It  seemed  as  if  all  the  trees  in  the  vicinity  sighed 
and  drooped  under  this  deafening  howl,  which  re- 
sembled the  thunder's  boom  and  the  lion's  roar, 
and  the  echo  of  which  died  away  between  the  oaks' 
thick  trunks.  Andrusevich,  who  sat  next  to 
Osadchi,  fell  backwards  wit<h  a  comic  expression  of 

^3 


194  THE    DUEL 

terror,  and  pretended  to  be  slightly  deaf  during 
the  remainder  of  the  banquet.  The  gentlemen  got 
up  and  clinked  their  glasses  with  Shurochka's. 
Romiashov  purposely  waited  to  the  last,  and  she 
observed  it.  Whilst  Shurochka  turned  towards  him, 
she,  silently  and  with  a  passionate  smile,  held  for- 
ward her  glass  of  white  wine.  In  that  moment 
her  eyes  grew  wider  and  darker,  and  her  lips 
moved  noiselessly,  just  as  if  she  had  clearly 
uttered  a  certain  word  ;  but,  directly  afterwards, 
she  turned  round  laughing  to  Taliman,  and  began 
an  animated  conversation  with  him.  "What  did 
she  say?"  thought  Romashov.  "What  word  was 
it  that  she  would  not  or  dared  not  say  aloud  ? " 
He  felt  nervous  and  agitated,  and,  secretly,  he 
made  an  attempt  to  give  his  lips  the  same  form 
and  expression  as  he  had  just  observed  with 
Shurochka,  in  order,  by  that  means,  to  guess  what 
she  said;  but  it  was  fruitless.  "Romochka?" 
"  Beloved?  "  "  I  love?  "  No,  that  wasn't  it.  Only 
one  thing  he  knew  for  certain,  viz.,  that  the  mys- 
terious word  had  three  syllables. 

After  that  he  drank  with  Nikolaiev,  and  wished 
him  success  on  the  General  Staff,  as  if  it  were  a 
matter  of  course  that  Nikolaiev  would  pass  his 
examination.  Then  came  tlie  usual,  inevitable  toasts 
of  "  the  ladies  present,"  of  "  women  in  general," 
the  "  glorious  colours  of  the  regiment,"  of  the 
"  ever-victorious  Russian  Army,"  etc. 

Now  up  sprang  Taliman,  who  was  already  very 
elevated,  and  screamed  in  his  hoarse,  broken 
falsetto,  "  Gentlemen,  I  propose  the  health  of  our 
beloved,  idolized  sovereign,  for  whom'  we  are  all 
ready  at  any  time  to  sacrifice  our  lives  to  the  last 
drop  of  our  blood." 

At    the   last   words    his    voice   failed   him   com- 


THE    DUEL  195 

pletely.  The  bandit. look  in  his  dark  brown,  gipsy 
eyes  faded,  and  tears  moistened  his  brown  cheeks. 

"  The  hymn  to  the  Tsar,"  shouted  little  fat 
Madame  Andrusevich.  All  arose.  The  officers 
raised  their  hands  to  the  peaks  of  their  caps. 
Discordant,  untrained,  exultant  voices  rang  over  the 
neighbourhood,  but  worse  and  more  out  of  tune 
than  all  the  rest  screamed  the  sentimental  Staff- 
Captain  Lieschtschenko,  whose  expression  was  even 
more  melancholy  than  usual. 

They  now  began  drinking  hard,  as,  for  the  matter 
of  that,  the  officers  always  did  when  they  for- 
gathered at  mess,  at  each  other's  homes,  at  excur- 
sions and  picnics,  official  dinners,  etc.  All  talked 
at  once,  and  individual  voices  could  no  longer  be 
distinguished.  Shurochka,  who  had  drunk  a  good 
deal  of  white  wine,  suddenly  leaned  her  head  near 
Romashov,  Her  cheeks  and  lips  glowed,  and  the 
dark  pupils  of  her  beaming  eyes  had  now  attaiined 
an  almost  black  hue. 

"  I  can't  stand  these  provincial  picnics,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  They  are  always  so  vulgar,  mean,  and 
wearisome.  I  was,  of  course,  obliged  to  give  a 
party  before  my  husband  started  for  his  examination, 
but,  good  gracious  I  why  could  we  not  have  stayed 
at  home  and  enjoyed  ourselves  in  our  pretty, 
shady  garden?  Such  a  stupid  notion.  And  yet 
to-day,  I  don't  know  why,  I  am  so  madly  happy. 
Ah,  Romochka,  I  know  the  reason  ;  I  know  it,  and 
will  tell  you  afterwards.  Oh,  no  !  No,  no, 
Romochka,  that  is  not  true.  I  know  nothing — 
absolutely  nothing." 

Her  beautiful  eyes  were  half -closed,  and  her  face, 
full  of  alluring,  promising,  and  tormenting  im- 
patience, had  become  shamelessly  beautiful,  and 
Romashov,    though   he   hardly    understood    what   it 


196  THE    DUEL 

meant,  was  instinctively  conscious  of  the  passionate 
emotion  which  possessed  Shurochka  and  felt  a  sweet 
thrill  run  down  his  arms  and  legs  and  through 
his  heart. 

"  You  are  so  wonderful  to-day — has  anything 
happened?"    he   asked   in   a    whisper. 

She  answered  straightway  with  an  expression  of 
innocent  helplessness.  "  1  have  already  told  you 
— I  don't  know — I  can't  explain  it.  Look  at  the 
sky.  It's  blue,  but  why?  It  is  the  same  with 
me.  Romochka,  dear  boy,  pour  me  out  some  more 
wine." 

At  the  opposite  side  of  the  tablecloth  an  exciting 
conversation  was  carried  on  with  regard  to  the 
intended  war  with  Germany,  which  was  then 
regarded  by  many  as  almost  a  certainty.  Soon 
an  irritable,  senseless  quarrel  arose  about  it,  which 
was,  however,  suddenly  interrupted  by  Osadchi's 
furious,  thundering,  dictatorial  voice.  He  was 
almost  drunk,  but  the  only  signs  of  it  were  the 
terrible  pallor  of  his  handsome  face  and  the  lowering 
gaze   of  his  large  black  eyes. 

"  Rubbish  1"  he  screamed  wildly.  "What  do 
you  really  mean  by  war  nowadays  ?  War  has  been 
spoilt,  transmogrified,  and  everything  else,  for  the 
matter  of  that.  Children  are  born  idiots,  women 
are  stunted,  badly  brought -up  creatures,  and  men 
have — nerves.  '  Ugh,  blood,  blood  I  Oh,  I  shall 
faint,'  "  he  imitated  in  an  insulting,  mockingly  pitiful 
tone.  "  And  all  this  only  because  the  real,  fero- 
cious and  merciless  character  of  war  has  changed. 
Now,  can  this  be  called  war  when  you  fire  a  couple 
of  shots  at  the  enemy  at  a  distance  of  fifteen  versts, 
and  then  return  home  in  triumph  as  a  hero  ?  Pretty 
heroes  1  You  are  taken  prisoner,  and  then  they 
say  to  you  :    *  My  poor  friend,  how  are  yoi;  ?     Are 


THE    DUEL  197 

you  cold?  Would  you  like  a  cigarette?  Are  you 
quite  comfortable?  '  Damn  it  all  I  "  Osadchi  gave 
vent  to  a  few  inarticulate  roars  and  lowered  his 
head  like  a  mad  bull  ready  to  attack.  "  In  the 
Middle  Ages,  gentlemen,  things  were  quite  different. 
Night  attacks — storming  ladders  and  naked  weapons 
— murder  and  conflagration  everywhere.  '  Soldiers, 
the  town  is  yours  for  three  days.'  The  slaughter 
begins,  torch  and  sword  perform  their  office  ;  in 
the  streets  streams  of  blood  and  wine.  Oh,  glorious 
festival  of  brave  men  amidst  bleeding  corpses  and 
smoking  ruins,  beautiful,  naked,  weeping  women 
dragged  by  their  hair  to  the  victor's  feet." 

"  Anyhow,  you  haven't  changed  much,"  inter- 
rupted   Sofia    Pavlovna    Taliman   jokingly. 

"  All  the  town  a  river  of  fire,  the  tempest 
sporting  at  night  with  the  bodies  of  hanged  men  ; 
vultures  shriek  and  the  victor  lords  it  by  the  camp- 
fires  beneath  the  gallows  tree.  Why  take  prisoners 
and  waste  time  and  strength  for  them?  Ugh  I  " 
Osadchi,  with  teeth  clenched,  groaned  like  a  wild 
beast.  *'  Grand  and  glorious  days  1  What  fights  ! 
Eye  to  eye  and  chest  to  chest.  An  uninterrupted 
slaughter  for  hours,  till  the  cold-blooded  tenacity 
and  discipline  of  one  party,  coupled  with  invincible 
fury,  brought  victory.  And  what  fights  then  I  What 
courage,  what  physical  strength,  and  what  superior 
dexterity  in  the  use  of  weapons  I  Gentlemen  " — 
Osadchi  arose  in  all  his  gigantic  stature  and  in 
his  terrible  voice  insolence  and  cold-bloodedness 
reigned — "  gentlemen,  I  know  that  from  your  mili- 
tary colleges  have  issued  morbid,  crazy  phrases 
about  what's  called  '  humanity  in  war,'  etc.,  etc. 
But  I  drink  at  this  moment — even  if  I  am  to  drain 
my  glass  by  myself — to  the  wars  of  bygone  days 
and  the  joyful,  bloody  cruelty  of  old  times." 


198  THE    DUEL 

All  were  silent,  hypnotized  and  cowed  by  this 
unexpected  horrible  ecstasy  of  an  otherwise  reserved 
and  taciturn  man,  whom  they  now  regarded  with 
a  feeling  of  terror  and  curiosity.  At  that  moment 
Biek-Agamalov  jumped  up  from  where  he  was 
sitting.  He  did  this  so  quickly  and  suddenly  that 
he  alarmed  several  who  were  present,  and  one  of 
the  ladies  uttered  a  cry  of  terror.  His  widely 
staring  eyes  flashed  wildly,  and  his  white,  clenched 
teeth  resembled  a  beast  of  prey's.  He  seemed  to 
be  nearly  stifled,  and  he  could  not  find  words. 

'-'  Oh,  see  I  here's  one  who  understands  and  re- 
joices at  .what  you  have  said.  Ugh  !  "  With  con- 
vulsive energy,  nay,  almost  furiously,  he  grasped 
and  shook  Osadchi's  hand.  "  To  hell  with  all 
these  weak,  cowardly,  squeamish  wretches  !  Out 
with  the  sabre  and  hew   themi  down  I  " 

His  bloodshot  eyes  sought  an  object  suitable  as 
a  vent  for  his  flaming  rage.  His  naturally  cruel 
instincts  had  at  this  moment  thrown  off  their  mask. 
Like  a  madman  he  slashed  at  the  oak -copse  with 
his  naked  sword.  Mutilated  branches  and  young 
leaves   rained  xiown   on  the  tablecloth  and  guests. 

"  Lieutenant  Biek  !  Madman  1  Are  you  out  of 
your  mind?  "    screamed  the  ladies. 

Biek-Agamalov  pulled  himself  together  and  re- 
turned to  his  place,  visibly  much  ashamed  of  his 
barbaric  behaviour  ;  but  his  delicate  nostrils  rose 
and  fell  with  his  quick  breathings,  and  his  black 
eyes,  wild  with  suppressed  rage,  looked  loweringly 
and   defiantly  ^at   the   company. 

Romashov  had  heard,  and  yet  not  heard,  Osadchi's 
speech.  He  felt,  as  it  were,  stupefied  by  a  nar- 
cotic, but  celestially  delightful,  intoxicating  drink, 
and  he  thought  that  a,  warm  spider,  as  soft  as 
velvet,  had  been  spinning  softly  and  cautiously  round 


THE    DUEL  199 

him  with  its  web,  and  gently  tickled  his  body  till  he 
almost  died  of  an  inward,  exultant  laughter.  His 
hand  lightly  brushed — and  each  time  as  though 
unintentionaJly — Shurochka's  arm,  but  neither  she 
nor  he  attempted  to  look  at  each  other.  Romashov 
was  quite  lost  in  the  land  of  dreams,  when  the 
sound  of  Biek-Agamalov's  and  Osadchi's  voices 
reached  him,  but  as  though  they  came  from  a 
distant,  fantastic  mist.  The  actual  words  he  could 
understand,  but  they  seemed  to  him  empty  and 
devoid   of  any   intelligent   meaning. 

"  Osadchi  is  a  cruel  man.  and  he  does  not  like 
me,"  thought  Romashov.  "  Osadchi's  wife  is  a 
creature  to  be  pitied — small,  thin,  and  every  year 
in  an  interesting  condition.  He  never  takes  her  out 
with  him.  Last  year  a  young  soldier  in  Osadchi's 
company  hanged  himself — Osadchi  ?  Who  is  this 
Osadchi  ?  See  now,  Biek,  too,  is  shrieking  and 
making  a  row.  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he?  Do  I 
know  him  ?  Ah,  of  course  I  know  him,  and  yet  he 
is  so  strange  to  me,  so  wonderful  and  incompre- 
hensible. But  who  are  you  who  are  sitting  beside 
me  ? — from  whom  such  joy  and  happiness  beam 
that  I  am  intoxicated  with  this  happiness.  There 
sits  Nikolaiev  opposite  me.  He  looks  displeased, 
and  sits  there  in  silence  all  the  time.  He  glanaes 
here  as  if  adcidentally,  and  his  eyes  glide  over 
me  with  c'old  contempt.  He  is,  methinks,  much 
embittered.  Well,  I  have  no  objection — may  he 
have  his  revenge  I     Oh,  my  delicious  happiness  I  ^* 

It  began  to  grow  dark.  The  lilac  shadows  of 
the  trees  stol^  slowly  over  the  plain.  The  youngest 
Miss  Michin  suddenly  called  out — 

"Gentlemen,  where  are  the  violets?  Here  on 
this  very  spot  they  are  said  to  grow  in  profusion. 
Come,  let  us  find  some  and  gather  them." 


200  THE    DUEL 

"  It's  too  late,"  some  one  objected.  "  It's  im- 
possible to   see   them  in,   the   grass   now." 

"  Yes,  it  .  is  easier  to  lose  a  thing  now 
than  to  find  it,"  interposed  Ditz,  with  a  cynical 
laugh. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  let  us  light  a  bonfire,"  proposed 
Andrusevich. 

They  at  once  set  about  eagerly  collecting  and 
forming  into  a  pile  an  enormous  quantity  of  dry 
branches,  twigs,  and  leaves  that  had  been  lying  there 
from  last  year.  The  bonfire  was  lighted,  and  a 
huge  pillar  of  merrily -crackling,  sparkling  flame 
arose  against  the  sky.  At  the  same  instant,  as 
though  terror-stricken,  the  last  gUlnpse  of  daylight 
left  the  place  a  prey  to  the  darkness  which  swiftly 
arose  from  the  forest  gloom.  Purple  gleaming 
spots  shyly  trembled  in  the  oaks'  leafy  crests,  and 
the  trees  seemed  at  one  time  to  hurry  forward 
with  curiosity  in  the  full  illumination  from  the  fire, 
at  another  time  to  hasten  as  quickly  back  to  the  dark 
coverts   of  the   grove. 

All  got  up  from  their  places  on  the  gtass.  The 
servants  lighted  the  candles  in  the  many-coloured 
Chinese  lanterns.  The  young  officers  played  and 
raced  like  schoolboys.  Olisdr  wrestled  with  Michin, 
and  to  the  astonishment  of  all  the  insignificant, 
clumsy  Michin  threw  his  tall,  well-built  adversary 
twice  in  succession  on  his  back.  After  this  the 
guests  began  leaping  right  across  the  fire.  Andruse- 
vich displayed  some  of  his  tricks.  At  one  time  he 
imitated  the  noise  of  a  fly  buzzing  against  a  window, 
at  another  time  he  showed  how  a  poultry-maid 
attempted  to  catch  a  fugitive  cock,  lastly,  he  dis- 
appeared in  the  darkness  among  the  bushes,  from 
which  was  heard  directly  afterwards  the  sharp  rustle 
of  a  saw  or  grindstone.     Even  Ditz  condescended 


THE    DUEL  20 1 

to  show  his  dexterity,  as  a  juggler,  with  emlpty 
bottles . 

"  Allow  me,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  cried  Tali- 
man,  "  to  perform  a  little  innocent  conjuring  trick. 
This  is  no  question  of  a  marvellous  witchcraft,  but 
only  quickness  and  dexterity.  I  will  ask  the  dis- 
tinguished audience  to  convinqe  themselves  that  I 
have  not  hidden  anything  in  my  hands  or  coat- 
sleeves.  Well,  now  we  begin,  one,  two,  three — hey, 
presto  I  " 

With  a  rapid  movement,  and,  amidst  general 
laughter,  he  took  from  his  pocket  two  new  packs 
of  cards,  which,  with  a  Uttle  bang,  he  quickly  and 
deftly  freed  from  their  wrapper. 

"  Preference,  gentlemen,"  he  suggested.  "  A  little 
game,  if  you  like,  in  the  open  air.  How  would  that 
do,  eh?  " 

Osadchi,  Nikolaiev,  and  Andrusevich  sat  down 
to  cards,  and  with  a  deep  and  sorrowful  sigh, 
Lieschtschenko  stationed  himself,  as  usual,  behind 
the  players.  Nikolaiev  refused  to  join  the  game, 
and  stood  out  for  some  time,  but  gave  way  at  last. 
As  he  sat  down  he  looked  about  him  several  times 
in  evident  anxiety,  searching  with  his  eyes  for 
Shurochka,  but  the  gleam  of  the  fire  blinded  him, 
and  a  scowling,  worried  expression  became  fixed 
on  his  face. 

Romashov  pursued  a  narrow  path  amongst  the 
trees.  He  neither  understood  nor  knew  what  was 
awaiting  him,  but  he  felt  in  his  heart  a  vaguely 
oppressive  but,  nevertheless,  delicious  anguish  whilst 
waiting  for  something  that  was  to  happen.  He 
stopped.  Behind  him  he  heard  a  slight  rustling  of 
branches,  and,  after  that,  the  sound  of  quick  steps 
and  the  frou-frou  of  a  silken  skirt.  Shurochka. 
was  approaching  him  with  hurried  steps.     She  re- 


202  THE    DUEL 

sembled  a  dryad  when,  in  her  white  dress,  she 
glided  softly  forth  between  the  dark  trunks  of  the 
mighty  oaks.  Romashov  wpnt  up  and  embraced 
her  without  uttering  a  ,word.  Shurochka  was  breath- 
ing heavily  and  in  gasps.  Her  warm  breath  often 
met  Romashov's  cheeks  and  lips,  and  he  felt  beneath 
his  hand  her  heart's   violent  throbs. 

"  Let's  sit  here,"  whispered  Shurochka. 

She  sank  down  on  the  grass,  and  began  with 
both  hands  to  arrangie  her  hair  at  the  back.  Romas- 
hov laid  himself  at  her  feet,  but,  as  the  ground 
just  there  sloped  downwards,  he  saw  only  the  soft 
and  delicate  outlines  of  her  neck  and  chin. 

Suddenly  she  said  to  him  in  a  low,  trembling 
voice — 

"  Romochka,  are  you  happy  ?  " 

"  Yes — happy,"  he  answered.  Then,  after  review- 
ing in  his  mind,  for  an  instant,  all  the  events  of  that 
day,  he  repeated  fervently  :  "  Oh,  yes — so  happy, 
but   tell  me   why   you   are  to-day   so,   so?   .   .   ." 

"So?     What  do  you  mean?" 

She  bent  lower  towards  him,  gazed  into  his  eyes, 
and  all  her  lovely  countenance  was  for  once  visible 
to  Romashov. 

"  Wonderful,  divine  Shurochka,  you  have  never 
been  so  beautiful  as  now.  There  is  something 
about  you  that  sings  and  shines — something  new 
and  mysterious  which  1  cannot  understand.  But, 
Alexandra  Petrovna,  don't  be  'angry  now  at  the 
question.  Are  you  not  afraid  that  some  one  may 
come?  " 

She  smiled  without  speaking,  and  that  soft,  low, 
caressing  laugh  aroused  in  Romashov's  heart  a 
tremor  of  ineffable  bliss. 

"  My  dearest  Romochka — my  good,  faint-hearted, 
simple,  timorous  Romochka — have  I  not  already  told 


THE    DUEL  203 

you  that  this  day  is  ours?  Think  only  of  that, 
Romochka.  Do  you  know  why  I  am  so  brave  and 
reckless  to-day?  No,  you  do  not  know  the  reason. 
Well,  it's  because  I  am  in  love  with  you  to-day — 
nothing  else.  No,  no — don't,  please,  get  any  false 
notions  into  your  head.  To-morrow  it  will  have 
passed." 

Romashov  tried  to  take  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Alexandra  Petrovna — Shurochka — Sascha,"  '  he 
moaned  beseechingly. 

"  Don't  call  me  Shurochka — do  you  hear?  I 
don't  like  it.  Anything  but  that.  By  the  way," 
she  stopped  abruptly  as  if  considering  something, 
*'  what  a  C'harming  name  you  have — Georgi.  It's 
much  prettier  than  Yuri — oh,  much,  much,  much 
prettier.  Georgi,"  she  pronounced  the  name  slowly 
with  an  accent  on  each  syllable  as  though  it  afforded 
her  delight  to  Hsten  to  the  sound  of  every  letter 
in  the  word.  "  Yes,  there  is  a  proud  ring  about 
that  name." 

"  Oh,  my  beloved,"  Romashov  exclaimed,  inter- 
rupting  her   with   passionate   fervour. 

"  Wait  and  listen.  1  dreamt  of  you  last  night — 
a  wonderful,  enchanting  dream.  I  dreamt  we  were 
dancing  together  in  a  very  remarkable  room.  Oh, 
I  should  at  any  time  recognizie  that  room  in  its 
minutest  details.  It  was  lighted  by  a  red  lamp 
that  shed  its  radiance  on  handsomie  rugs,  a  bright 
new  cottage  piano,  and  two  windows  with  drawn 
red  curtains.  All  within  was  red.  An  invisible 
orchestra  played,  wie  danced  close -folded  in  each 
other's  arms.  No,  no.  It's  only  in  dreams  that 
one  can  come  so  intoxicatingly  close  to  the  object 
of  one's  love.  Our  feet  did  not  touch  the  floor  ; 
we    hovered    in    the    air    in    quicker    and    quicker 

'  Pet  name  for  Alexandra. 


204  THE    DUEL 

circles,  and  this  ineffably  delightful  enchantment 
lasted  so  very,  very  long.  Listen,  Romochka,  do 
you  ever  fly  in  your  dreams?  " 

Romashov  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  was 
in  an  exquisitely  beautiful  world  of  wonders,  at 
the  same  time  magic  and  real.  And  was  not  all 
this  then  merely  a  dream,  a  fairy  tale?  This  warm, 
intoxicating  spring  night  ;  these  dark,  silent,  listen- 
ing trees  ;  this  rare,  beautiful,  white -clad  woman 
beside  him.  He  only  succeeded,  after  a  violent 
effort  of  will,  in  coming  back  to  consciousness  and 
reality. 

"  Yes,  sometimes,  but,  with  every  passing  year 
my  flight  gets  weaker  and  lower.  When  I  was  a 
child,  I  used  to  fly  as  high  as  the  ceQing,  and 
how  funny  it  seemed  to  me  to  look  down  on  the 
people  on  the  floor.  They  walked  with  their  feet 
up,  and  tried  in  vain  to  reach  me  with  the  long 
broom.  I  flew  off,  mocking  them  with  my  exultant 
laughter.  But  now  the  force  in  my  wings  is  broken," 
added  Romashov,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  flap  my  wings 
about  for  a  few  strokes,  and  then  faU  flop  on  the 
floor." 

Shurochka  sank  into  a  semi -recumbent  position, 
with  her  elbow  resting  on  the  ground  and  her 
head  resting  in  the  palm  of  her  hand.  After  a 
few  moments*  silence  she  continued  in  an  absent 
tone — 

"  This  morning,  when  I  awoke,  a  mad  desire 
came  over  me  to  meet  you.  So  intense  was  my 
longing  that  I  do  not  know  what  would  have 
happened  if  you  had  not  come.  I  almost  think  I 
should  have  defied  convention,  and  looked  you  up 
at  your  house.  That  was  why  I  told  you  not  to 
come  before  five  o'clock.  I  was  afraid  of  myself. 
Darling,  do  you  understand  me  now?" 


THE    DUEL  205 

Hardly  half  an  urshin  from  Romashov's  face 
lay  her  crossed  feet — two  tmy  feet  in  very  low  shoes, 
and  stockings  clocked  with  white  embroidery  in 
the  form  of  an  arrow  over  the  instep.  With  his 
temples  throbbing  and  a  buzzing  in  his  ears,  he 
madly  pressed  his  eager  lips  against  this  elastic, 
live,  cool  part  of  her  body,  which  he  felt  through; 
the  stocking. 

"  No,  Romochka — stop."  He  heard  quite  close 
above  his  head  her  weak,  faltering,  and  somewhat 
lazy  voice, 

Romashov  raised  his  head.  Once  more  he  was 
the  fairy-tale  prince  in  the  wonderful  wood.  In 
scattered  groups  along  the  whole  extensive  slope  in 
the  dark  grass  stood  the  ancient,  solemn  oaks, 
motionless,  but  attentive  to  every  sound  that  dis- 
turbed Nature's  holy,  dream -steeped  slumbers.  High 
up,  above  the  horizon  and  through  the  dense  mass 
of  tree  trunks  and  crests,  one  could  still  discern  a 
slender  streak  of  twilight  glow,  not,  as  usual,  light 
red  or  changing  into  blue,  but  of  dark  purple 
hue,  reminiscent  of  the  last  expiring  embers 
in  the  hearth,  or  the  dull  flames  of  deep  red 
wine  drawn  out  by  the  sun's  rays.  And  as  it 
were,  framed  in  all  this  silent  magnificence,  lay  a 
young,  lovely,  white-clad  woman — a  dryad  lazily 
reclining. 

Romashov  came  closer  to  her.  To  him  it  seemed 
as  if  from  Shurochka's  countenance  there  streamed 
a  pale,  faint  radiance.  He  could  not  distin- 
guish her  eyes  ;  he  only  saw  two  large  black 
spots,  but  he  felt  that  she  was  gazing  at  him 
steadily. 

"  This  is  a  poem,  a  fairy-tale — a  fairy-tale,"  he 
whispered,  scarcely  moving  his  lips. 

"  Yes,  my  friend,   it  is  a  fairy-tale."  . 


2o6  THE    DUEL 

He  began  to  kiss  her  dress  ;  he  hid  his  face  in 
her  slender,  warm,  sweet-smelling  hand,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  stammered  in  a  hollow  voice — 

"  Sascha — I  love  you — love  you." 

When  she  now  raised  herself  somewhat  up,  he 
clearly  saw  her  eyes,  black,  piercing,  now  unnaturally 
dilated,  at  another  moment  closed  altogether,  by 
which  the  whole  of  her  face  was  so  strangely  altered 
that  it  became  unrecognizable.  His  eager,  thirsty 
lips  sought  her  mouth,  but  she  turned  away,  shook 
her  head  sadly,  and  at  last  whispered  again  and 
again — 

"  No,  no,  no,  my  dear,  my  darling — not  that." 

"  Oh,  my  adored  one,  what  bliss — I  love  you," 
Romashov  again  interrupted  her,  intoxicated  with 
love.  "  See,  this  night — this  silence,  and  no  one 
here,  save  ourselves.  Oh,  my  happiness,  how  I  love 
you  !  " 

But  again  she  replied,  "  No,  no,"  and  sank  back 
into  her  former  attitude  on  the  grass.  She  breathed 
heavily.  At  last  she  said  in  a  scarcely  audible 
voice,  and  it  was  plain  that  every  word  cost  her  a 
great  effort  : 

"  Romochka,  it's  a  pity  that  you  are  so  weak. 
I  will  not  deny  that  I  feel  myself  drawn  to  you,  and 
that  you  are  dear  to  me,  in  spite  of  your  awkward- 
ness, your  simple  inexperience  of  life,  your  childish 
and  sentimental  tenderness.  I  do  not  say  I  love  you, 
but  you  are  always  in  my  thoughts,  in  my,  dreams, 
and  your  presence,  your  caresses  set  my  senses, 
my  thoughts,  working.  But  why  are  you  always  so 
pitiable?  Remember  that  pity  is  the  sister  of  con- 
tempt. You  see  it  is  unfortunate  I  cannot  look  up 
to    you.      Oh,    if    you    were    a    strong,    purposeful 

man "     She  took   off  Romashov's   cap  and  put 

her  fingers  softly  and  caressingly  through  his  soft 


THE    DUEL  207 

hair.  "  If  you  could  only  win  fame — a  high 
position " 

"  I  promise  to  do  so  ;  I  will  do  so,"  exclaimed 
Romashov,  in  a  strained  voice.  "  Only  be  mine, 
come  to  me   .   .    .all  my  life   shall   .   .    ." 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  tender  and  sorrowful 
smile,  of  which  there  was  an  echo  in  her  voice. 

"  I  believe  you,  dear  ;  I  believe  you  mean  what 
you  say,  and  I  also  know  you  will  never  be  able  to 
keep  your  promise.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  cherish  the 
slightest  hope  of  that,  I  would  abandon  everything 
and  follow  you.  Ah,  Romochka,  my  handsome  boy, 
I  call  to  mind  a  certain  legend  which  tells  how 
God  from  the  beginning  created  every  human  being 
whole,  but  afterwards  broke  it  into  two  pieces  and 
threw  the  bits  broadcast  into  the  world.  And  ever 
afterward  the  one  half  seeks  in  vain  its  fellow. 
Dear,  we  are  both  exactly  two  such  unhappy 
creatures.  With  us  there  are  so  many  sympathies, 
antipathies,  thoughts,  dreams,  and  wishes  in  common . 
We  understand  each  other  by  means  of  only  half 
a  hint,  half  a  word — nay,  even  without  words.  And 
yet  our  ways  must  lie  apart.  Alas  I  this  is  now  the 
second  time  in  my  life " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it." 

"Has  he  told  you  this?"  asked  Shurochka 
eagerly. 

"  No  ;  it  was  only  by  accident  I  got  to  know  it." 

They  were  both  silent.  In  the  sky  the  first  stars 
began  to  light  up  and  display  themselves  to  the 
eye  as  little,  trembling,  emerald,  sparkling  points. 
From  the  right  you  might  hear  a  weak  echo  of 
voices,  laughter  and  the  strains  of  a  song,-;  but  in 
all  the  rest  of  the  wood,  which  was  sunk  in  soft, 
caressing  darkness,  reigned  a  deep,  mysterious 
silence.      The    great   blazing   pyre   was    not   visible 


2o8  THE    DUEL 

from  this  spot  in  the  woods,  but  the  crests  from 
the  nearest  oaks  now  and  then  reflected  the 
flaming  red  glow  that,  by  its  rapid  changes  from 
darkness  to  Hght,  reminded  one  of  distant  and  vivid 
sheet-lightning.  Shurochka  softly  and  silently 
caressed  Romashov's  hair  and  face.  When  he 
succeeded  in  seizing  her  fingers  between  his  lips, 
she  herself  pressed  the  palm  of  her  hand  against 
his  mouth. 

"I  do  not  love  my  husband,"  she  said  slowly 
and  in  an  absent  voice.  "  He  is  rough,  indelicate, 
and  devoid  of  any  trace  of  fine  feeling.  Ah,  I  blush 
when  I  speak  of  it — we  women  never  forget  how  a 
man  first  takes  forcible  possession  of  us.  Besides, 
he  is  so  insanely  jealous.  Even  to-day  he  worries 
me  about  that  wretched  Nasanski.  He  forces  con- 
fessions from  me,  and  makes  the  most  insignificant 
events  of  those  times  the  ground  for  the  wildest 
conclusions.  Ah — shame,  he  has  unblushingly  dared 
to  put  the  most  disgusting  questions  to  me.  Good 
God  !  all  that  was  only  an  innocent,  childish 
romance,  but  the  mere  mention  of  Nasanski 's  name 
makes  him  furious." 

Now  and  then,  whilst  she  spoke,  a  nervous 
trembling  was  noticeable  in  her  voice,  and  her  hand, 
still  continuing  its  caress,  was  thrilled,  as  it  were, 
by  a  shudder. 

"  Are  you  cold?  "  asked  Romashov. 

"  No,  dear — not  at  all,"  she  replied  gently.  "  The 
night  is  so  bewitchingly  beautiful,  you  know." 
Suddenly,  with  a  burst  of  uncontrollable  passion, 
she  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  my  beloved,  how  sweet  to 
be  here  with  you." 

Romashov  took  her  hand,  softly  caressed  the 
delicate  fingers,  and  said  in  a  shy,  diffident 
tone  : 


THE    DUEL  209 

"  Tell  me,  I  beg  you.  You  have  just  said  your- 
self that  you  do  not  love  your  husband.  Why, 
then,  do  you  live  together?" 

She  arose  with  a  rapid  movement,  sat  up,  and 
began  nervously  to  pass  her  hands  over  her  fore- 
head and  cheeks,  as  if  she  had  awakened  from  a 
dream, 

"  It's  late  ;  let  us  go.  Perhaps  they  are  even 
now  looking  for  us,"  she  answered  in  a  calm  and 
completely  altered  voice. 

They  got  up  from  the  grass,  and  both  stood  for 
a  while  silent,  listening  to  each  other's  breathings, 
eye  to  eye,  but  with  lowered  gaze. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  suddenly  cried  in  a  silvery 
voice.     "  Good-bye,  my  bliss — my  brief  bliss." 

She  twined  her  arms  roimd  his  neck  and  pressed 
her  moist,  burning-hot  lips  to  his  mouth.  With 
clenched  teeth  and  a  sigh  of  intense  passion  she 
pressed  her  body  to  his.  To  Romashov's  eyes  the 
black  trunks  of  the  oaks  seemed  to  reel  and  softly 
bend  towards  the  ground,  where  the  objects  ran 
into  each  other  and  disappeared  before  his  eyes. 
Time  stood  still   .   .    . 

By  a  violent  jerk  she  released  herself  from  his 
arms,  and  said  in  a  firm  voice  : 

"  Farewell — enough.     Let  us  go." 

Romashov  without  a  sound  sank  down  on  the 
grass  at  her  feet,  embracing  her  knees,  and  pressing 
his  lips  against  her  dress  in  long,  hot  kisses. 

"  Sascha — Saschenka,"  he  whispered,  having  now 
lost  all   self-command,    "  have  pity   on   me." 

"  Get  up,  Georgi  Alexandrovich  !  Come — they 
might  take  us  unawares.  Let  us  return  to  the 
others." 

They  proceeded  on  their  way  in  the  direction  from 
which  they  heard  the  sound  of  voices.     Romashov's 

14 


2IO  THE    DUEL 

temples    throbbed,    his    knees    gave    way,    and    he 
stumbled  like  a  drunken  man. 

"  No,  I  will  not,"  Shurochka  answered  at  last  in 
a  fevered,  panting  voice.  "  I  will  not  betray  him. 
Besides,  it  would  be  something  even  worse  than 
betrayal — it  would  be  cowardice.  Cowardice  enters 
into  every  betrayal.  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  truth. 
I  have  never  deceived  my  husband,  and  I  shall 
remain  faithful  to  him  until  the  very  moment  when 
I  shall  release  myself  from  him — for  ever.  His 
kisses  and  caresses  are  disgusting  to  me,  and  listen, 
now — no,  even  before — when  I  thought  of  you  and 
your  kisses,  I  understood  what  ineffable  bliss  it 
would  be  to  surrender  myself  wholly  to  the  man  I 
love.  But  to  steal  such  a  joy — never.  I  hate  deceit 
and  treacherous  ways." 

They  were  approaching  the  spot  where  the  picnic 
had  taken  place,  and  the  flames  from  the  pyre  shone 
from  between  the  trees,  the  coarse,  bark-covered 
trunks  of  which  were  sharply  outlined  against  the 
fire,  and  looked  as  if  they  were  molten  in  some 
black  metal. 

"Well,"  resumed  Romashov,  "  if  I  shake  off  my 
sluggishness,  if  I  succeed  in  attaining  the  same 
goal  as  that  for  which  your  husband  is  striving, 
or  perhaps  even  something  still  higher — would  you 
then   .  .    .  ? " 

She  pressed  her  cheek  hard  against  his  shoulder, 
and  answered   impetuously  and   passionately — 
"  Yes,   then,   then  !  " 

They  gained  the  open.  All  the  vast,  burning 
pyre  was  visible  ;  around  it  a  crowd  of  small,  dark 
figures  were  moving. 

"  Listen,  Romochka,  to  still  another  last  word." 
Shurochka  spoke  fast,  and  there  was  a  note  of 
sorrow  and  anguish  in  her  voice.     "  I  did  not  like 


THE    DUEL  211 

to  spoil  this  evening  for  you,  but  now  it  must  be 
told.     You  must  not  call  at  my  house  any  more." 

He  stopped  abruptly  before  her  with  a  look  of 
intense  astonishment.  "  Not  call?  But  tell  me  the 
reason,   Sascha.      What   has   happened?" 

"  Come,  come  ;  I  don't  know,  but  somebody  is 
writing  anonymous  letters  to  my  husband.  He  has 
not  shown  them  to  me,  only  casually  mentioned 
several  things  about  them.  The  foulest  and  most 
disgusting  stories  are  being  manufactured  about  you 
and  me.  In  short,  I  beg  you  not  to  come  to  us 
any  more." 

"  Sascha,"  he  moaned,  as  he  stretched  out  his 
arms  to  her. 

"  O  my  friend,  my  dearest  and  most  beloved. 
Who  will  suffer  more  from  this  than  I  ?  But  it  is 
unavoidable.  And  listen  to  this,  too.  I  ajn  afraid 
he  is  going  to  speak  to  you  about  this.  I  beseech 
you,  for  God's  sake,  not  to  lose  your  temper. 
Promise  me  you  won't." 

"  That  is  all  right  ;  don't  be  afraid,"  Romashov 
replied   in   a   gloomy    tone. 

"  That  is  all.  Farewell,,  poor  friend.  Give  me 
your  hand  once  more  and  squeeze  mine  tight,  quite 
tight,  till  it  hurts.  Oh  !  good-bye,  darling, 
darling." 

They  separated  without  going  closer  to  the  fire. 
Shurochka  walked  straight  up  the  slope.  Romas- 
hov took  a  devious  path  downwards  along  the 
shore.  The  card-playing  was  still  going  on,  but 
their  absence  had  been  remarked,  and  when 
Romashov  approached  the  fire,  Ditz  greeted  him 
so  insolently,  and  with  such  a  vulgar  attack  of 
coughing  in  order  to  draw  attention,  that  Romashov 
could  hardly  restrain  himself  from  flinging  a  fire- 
brand at  his   face. 


212  THE    DUEL 

Directly  after  this  he  noticed  that  Nikolaiev  left 
his  game,  took  Shurochka  aside,  and  talked  to  her 
for  some  time  with  angry  gestures  and  looks  of 
hatred.  Suddenly  she  pulled  herself  together,  and 
answered  him  in  a  few  words  with  an  indescribable 
expression  of  indignation  and  contempt  on  her 
features.  And  that  big,  strong  man  all  at  once 
shrivelled  up  humbly  in  her  presence,  like  a  whipped 
hound  which  obediently  goes  its  way,  but  gnashes 
its  teeth  with   suppressed   iury. 

The  party  broke  up  soon  after  this.  The  night 
felt  chilly,  and  a  taw  mist  rose  from  the  little  river. 
The  common  stock  of  good  humour  and  merriment 
had  long  been  exhausted,  and  all  separated, 
weary,  drowsy,  and  without  hiding  their  yawns. 
Romashov  was  soon  once  more  sitting  in  his  trap, 
opposite  the  Misses  Michin,  but  he  never  uttered 
a  word  during  the  course  of  the  journey.  Before 
his  mind's  eye  still  stood  the  mighty  dark  and  silent 
trees  and  the  blood-red  sunset  over  the  brow  of  the 
woodland  hill .  There,  too,  in  the  soft,  scented  grass, 
he  saw  beside  him  a  female  shape  robed  in  white, 
but  during  all  his  intense,  consuming  pain  and 
longing,  he  did  not  fail  to  say  of  himself, 
pathetically — 

"  And  over  his  handsome  countenance  swept  a 
cloud  of  sorrow." 


XIV 

In  May  the  regiment  went  into  camp,  which,  year 
after  year,  was  pitched  in  the  same  spot  lOUtside 
the  town,  and  not  far  from  the  railway.  The 
young  officers  had,  whilst  the  camp  was  on, 
according  to  the  regulations,  to  live  in  wooden 
barracks  near  their  respective  companies  ;  but 
Romashov  continued  to  enjoy  his  own  dwelling  in 
the  town,  as  the  officers'  barracks  of  the  6th 
Company  had  lotig  been  in  a  ruinous  and  ,imin- 
habitable  condition,  on  account  of  there  being  no 
money  available  for  repairs.  Every  day  he  had 
to  journey  four  times  between  the  town  and  the 
camp.  In  the  morning  off  to  the  camj)  for  drUl, 
thence  back  to  the  officers'  mess  in  the  town  for 
his  dinner  ;  after  that,  off  to  the  afternoon  exer- 
cises, and,  finally,  at  night,  his  last  walk  back  to 
his  home.  This  fatiguing  life  was  seriously  affect- 
ing his  health.  After  the  first  fortnight  he  began 
to  get  thin  and  hollow-eyed,  and  soon  lost  the  fresh 
colour  of  his   cheeks. 

Even  the  rest,  officers  as  well  as  men,  fared  little 
better.  Preparations  were  being  made  for  the  great 
General  Review,  and  nobody  ventured  to  speak  of 
fatigue  or  weariness.  The  Captains  of  companies 
exhausted  the  utmost  strength  of  their  men  by  two 
or  three  bovu^'  extra  driU  every  day.     During  ^ajl 

the  driU  the  smacking  sound  of  ears  being  boxed 

213 


214  THE    DUEL 

and  other  maltreatment  was  heard  all  over  the  plain. 
More  than  once  Romashov  noticed  how  the  Captains, 
in  a  furious  rage,  like  wild  beasts,  attacked  the  poor 
recruits,  and  boxed  the  ears  of  the  entire  line  from 
first  to  last  ;  but,  nevertheless,  the  "  non-coms." 
displayed  the  greatest  cruelty.  They  punished  with 
unbridled  rage  the  slightest  mistake  in  marching 
or  manual  exercise  ;  teeth  were  knocked  out,  drums 
of  the  ears  were  broken,  and  the  defenceless 
victims  were  thrown  down  senseless.  But  none  of  all 
these  martyrs  ever  entertained  the  thought  of  draw- 
ing a  sword.  It  was  just  as  if  the  whole  regiment 
had  become  the  prey  of  a  wild  hypnosis  pr  had 
been  attacked  by  nightmare.  And  aU  these  terrors 
and  sufferings  were  multiplied  by  a  fearful  heat,  for 
May  this  year  was  unusually  hot. 

•Wherever  you  went  an  unnatural  nervousness  was 
discernible.  The  most  absurd  quarrels  would,  all  of 
a  sudden,  break  out  during  meals  at  the  officers' 
mess.  They  insulted  each  other,  and  sought  quarrels 
without  rhyme  or  reason.  The  soldiers,  with  their 
sunken  cheeks  and  sallow  eyes,  looked  like  idiots. 
Never,  during  the  few  hours'  rest  they  were  allowed 
to  enjoy,  was  a  laugh  heard  from  the  tents  ;  never 
a  joke.  At  night,  after  bugle-call,  the  rank  and 
file  were  ordered  to  get  into  line  for  games  and 
singing,  and  with  an  absolutely  apathetic  expression 
of  voice  and  features  they  howled  the  old  camp- 
song — 

"  Oh,  the  gallant  Russian  soldier, 
Fear  with  him  can  find  no  place  ; 
He,  when  bombs  are  bursting  round  him. 
Calls  them  'brother'  to  their  face." 

Then  a  dance  would  be  played  on  the  harmonium, 
jind  the  ensign  would  ro^r  out^ 


THE    DUEL  2i.i 

'-  Gregorash,  Skvortzov,  up  and  dance,  you 
hounds  I  " 

The  two  recruits  obeyed  the  order  without  a 
murmur,  but  in  both  their  song  and  dance  there 
lay  something  dead,  mechanical,  and  resigned,  at 
which  one  was  inclined  to  weep. 

Only  in  the  5th  Company  were  they  easygoing 
and  free,  and  there  the  driUs  began  every  day  an 
hour  later  than  the  rest  and  were  concluded  an 
hour  earlier.  You  might  have  fancied  that  every 
member  of  it  had  been  specially  chosen,  for  they  all 
looked  lively,  well-fed.  The  lads  of  the  5th 
Company  looked  their  officers  bravely  and  openly 
in  the  face,  and  the  very  rubashka  '  was  worn  with 
a  certain  aristocratic  elegance.  Their  commander, 
Stel&ovski — ^a  very  eccentric  old  bachelor  and  com- 
paratively rich  (he  drew  from  some  unknown  quarter 
two  hundred  roubles  every  month"),  was  of  an 
independent  character,  with  a  dry  manner,  who 
stood  aloof  from  his  comrades,  and  lastly,  was 
in  bad  odour  on  account  of  his  dissolute  life. 
He  attracted  and  hired  young  girls  from  the  lower 
class,  often  minors,  and  these  he  paid  handsomely, 
and  sent  back  to  their  native  places  after  the  lapse 
of  a  month.  Corporal  punishment — ^nay,  even  threats 
and  insulting  words — were  strictly  forbidden  in  his 
company,  although,  as  far  as  that  goes,  there  was  by 
no  means  any  coddling  of  the  men,  who,  however, 
in  appearance,  and  readiness,  and  capability,  were 
not  inferior  to  any  company  of  guardsmen  in  exist- 
ence. Being  himself  masterful,  cool,  and  self-reliant 
in  the  highest  degree,  he  was  also  able  to  implant 
those  quaUties  firmly  in  his  subordinates.  What, 
in  other  companies,  could  not  be  attained  after  a 
whole  week's  drill  amid  threats,  yells,  and  oaths, 
'  A  light  jacket  worn  in  the  hot  weather, 


,2 1 6  THE    DUEL 

blows  and  stripes,  Stelikovski  attained  with  the 
greatest  calm  in  a  sijngle  day.  He  was  a  man  of  few 
words,  seldom  raised  his  voice,  and  when,  on  occa- 
sion, he  did  speak,  the  soldiers  stood  as  if  carved 
in  stone.  Among  the  officers  he  was  shunned  and 
hated,  but  worshipped  by  his  men — a.  state  of  things 
that,  most  certainly,  was  unique  in  the  whole  of 
the  Russian  Army. 

At  length  the  15th  of  May  arrived,  when  the 
Great  Review,  ordered  by  the  Brigadier-General, 
was  to  take  place.  In  all  the  companies,  except 
the  5th,  the  non-coms,  had  their  men  drawn  up  by 
4  a.m.  The  poor,  tortured,  drowsy,  gaping  soldiers 
were  trembling  as  though  with  cold  in  their  coarse 
shirts,  although  the  air  was  mild  and  balmy  and 
the  weather  serene,  arid  their  gloomy,  depressed 
glances  and  sallow,  greyish,  chalky  faces  gave  a 
painful  impression  in  the  gleaming,  bright  summer 
morning. 

When  the  clock  struck  six,  the  officers  began  to 
join  their  companies.  The  regiment  had  not  to  be 
assembled  and  in  line  before  10  a.m.,  but,  with 
the  exception  of  Stehkovski,  not  one  of  the  Captains 
thought  of  letting  their  poor  wearied  soldiers  have 
their  proper  sleep  and  gain  strength  for  the  toils 
awaiting  them  that  day.  On  the  contrary,  never 
had  their  fussiness  and  zeal  been  greater  than  on 
this  morning.  The  air  was  thick  with  oaths,  threats, 
and  insults  ;  ear-boxLng,  slaps  on  the  mouth,  kicks, 
and  blows  with  the  fist  rained  down,  at  each  slightest 
blunder,  on  the  miserable,  utterly  exhausted  soldiers. 

At  9  a.m.  the  companies  marched  to  the  parade- 
ground,  about  five  hundred  paces  in  front  of  the 
canip.  Sixteen  outposts,  provided  with  small, 
multi-coloured  flags  for  signalling,  were  stationed  in 
an  absolutely  straight  line  about  half  a  verst  long. 


THE    DUEL  217 

so  as  to  Tttark  out,  with  mathematical  accuracy,  the 
points  where  each  company's  right  wing  should  be 
placed  at  the  parade  past  the  Brigadier- General. 
Lieutenant  Kovdko,  who  had  been  allotted  this 
highly  important  task,  was,  of  course,  one  of  the 
heroes  of  the  day,  and,  conscious  of  this,  he  galloped, 
like  a  madman — red,  perspiring,  and  with  his  cap 
on  his  neck — backwards  and  forwards  along  the 
Hne,  shouting  and  swearing,  and  also  belabouring 
with  his  sabre  the  ribs  of  his  lean  white  charger. 
The  poor  beast,  grown  grey  with  age  and  having  a 
cataract  in  its  right  eye,  waved  its  short  tail  con- 
vulsively. Yes,  on  Lieutenant  Kovako  and  his  out- 
posts depended  the  whole  regiment's  weal  and  woe, 
for  it  was  he  who  bore  the  awful  responsibility  of 
the  sixteen  companies'  respective  "  gaps  "  and 
"  dressing." 

Precisely  at  ten  minutes  to  10  a.m.,  the  5th 
Company  marched  out  of  camp.  With  brisk,  long, 
measured  steps,  that  made  the  earth  tremble,  these 
hundred  men  marched  past  all  the  other  companies 
and  took  their  place  in  the  Hne.  They  formed  a 
splendid,  select  corps  ;  lithe,  muscular  figures  with 
straight  backs  and  brave  bearing,  clean,  shining 
faces,  and  the  little  peakless  cap  tipped  coquettishly 
over  the  right  ear.  Captain  Stelikovski — a  little 
thin  man,  displaying  himself  in  tremendously  wide 
breeches — carelessly  promenaded,  without  troubling 
himself  in  the  least  about  the  time  his  troops  kept 
when  marching,  five  paces  oh  the  side  of  the  right 
flank,  peering  amusedly,  and  now  and  then  shaking 
his  head  whimsically  now  to  the  right,  now  to  the 
left,  as  though  to  control  the  troops'  "  dressing  " 
and  attention.  Colonel  Liech,  the  commander  of 
the  battalion,  who,  like  the  rest  of  the  oflficers, 
had  been,  ever  since  dawn,  in  a  state  of  examination- 


2i8  THE    DUEL 

fever  and  nervous  irritability,  rushed  up  to  Stelikovski 
with  furious  upbraidings  for  having  **  come  too  late." 
The  latter  slowly  and  coolly  took  out  his  watch, 
glanced  at  it,  and  replied  in  a  dry,  almost  con- 
temptuous  tone  : 

"  The  commander  of  the  regiment  ordered  me  to 
be  here  by  ten  o'clock.  It  still  wants  three  minutes 
to  that  hour.  I  do  not  consider  I  am  justified  in 
worrying   and   exerting   my   men   unnecessarily." 

"  Don't,  if  you  please,"  croaked  Liech,  gesticu- 
lating and  pulling  his  reins.  "  I  must  ask  you  to 
be  silent  when  your  superior  officer  makes  a  re- 
mark." 

But  he  only  too  well  understood  that  he  was 
wrong  and  would  get  the  worst  of  it,  and  he  rode 
quickly  on,  and  visited  his  wrath  on  the  8th  Com- 
pany, whose  officers  had  ordered  the  knapsacks  to 
be  opened. 

"  What  the  deuce  are  you  about  ?  What  is  this 
foolery?  Are  you  thinking  of  opening  a  bazaar 
or  a  general  shop  ?  This  is  just  like  beginning 
a  hunt  by  cramming  the  hounds  with  food.  Close 
your  knapsacks  and  put  them  on  quickly.  You 
ought  to  have  thought  of  this  before." 

At  a  quarter  to  eleven  they  began  dressing  the 
companies  on  the  lines  laid  down.  This  was  for 
all  a  very  minute,  tedious,  and  troublesome  task. 
Between  the  Echelons  long  ropes  were  tightly 
stretched  along  the  ground.  Every  soldier  in  the 
front  rank  was  obliged  to  see,  with  the  most  pain- 
ivl  accuracy,  that  his  toes  just  grazed  the  tightly - 
stretched  rope,  for  in  that  lay  the  fundamental  con- 
dition of  the  faultless  dressing  of  the  long  front. 
Moreover,  the  distance  between  the  toes,  like  the 
breadth  of  the  gun-stock  and  the  somewhat  inclined 
position   of   the   upper   part    of   the  body,   had   to 


THE    DUEL  219 

be  the  same  along  the  whole  line.  While  anxiously 
suj>erintending  these  details  the  Captains  often  flew 
into  a  towering  rage.  Frantic  shouts  and  angry- 
words  of  command  were  heard  everywhere  : 
"  Ivanoff,  more  forward,  you — Syaroschtan,  right 
shoulder  forward,  left  back  !  " 

At  10.30  a.m.  the  commander  of  the  regiment 
arrived.  He  rode  on  a  powerful  chestnut -brown 
gelding  with  white  legs.  Colonel  Shulgovich  was 
an  imposing,  almost  majestic,  figure  on  horseback. 
He  had  a  firm  **  seat,"  although  he  rode  in  infantry 
style,  with  stirrups  far  too  short.  In  greeting  his 
regiment  he  yelled  in  his  tremendous  voice,  in  which 
a  certain  jubilant  heroic  note  in  honour  of  the 
occasion   was  audible — 

"  Good   morning,   my    fine    fellows." 

Romashov,  who  remembered  his  4th  platoon  and 
esj>ecially  Kliabnikov's  wretched  appearance,  could 
not  refrain  from  smiling.  "  Pretty  choice  speci- 
mens, in  all  truth,"  thought  he. 

The  standards  were  unfurled  amidst  the  strident 
notes  of  the  regimental  band.  After  this  came  a 
long  and  trying  moment.  Straight  away  to  the 
station,  from  which  the  Brigadier -General  was  ex- 
pected, were  posted  a  number  of  signallers  who,  by 
certain  arranged  signs,  were  to  prepare  the  regiment 
for  the  approach  of  the  Generals.  More  than  once 
they  were  disturbed  by  a  false  alarm.  The  loose, 
slack  ropes  were  once  more  tightened  in  mad  haste, 
"  dressings  "  and  "  lines  "  were  ordered,  and  all 
stood  for  several  minutes  at  the  most  painful  "  atten- 
tion," until  weariness  once  more  asserted  its  claims, 
and  the  poor  soldiers  collapsed,  yet,  at  the  very  last, 
striving  to  keep  the  position  of  their  feet,  at  any 
rate,  unmoved.  .Out  in  the  plain,  about  three 
hundred  paces  off,  the  ladies  displayed  their  clothes, 


220  THE    DUEL 

parasols,  and  hats  of  variegated  and  loud  colours. 
Romashov  knew  ,very  well  that  Shurochka  was  not 
in  that  bright,  festive  group.  But  every  time  he 
glanced  in  that  direction  he  felt,  as  it  were,  an  icy- 
cold  shudder  in  the  region  of  his  heart,  and  his 
quick,  nervous  breathing  bore  witness  to  a  strong 
inward  excitement. 

Suddenly,  like  a  Strong  gust  of  wind,  a  rumour 
ran  through  the  ranks,  and  a  timorous  cry  was 
heard  :  **  He's  coming  ;  he's  coming  !  "  It  was  clear 
to  all  that  the  important,  eventful  moment  was 
approaching.  The  soldiers,  who  had  been  since 
dawn  the  victims  of  the  prevailing  excitement, 
dressed  in  their  ranks  without  orders,  but  with  a 
certain  nervous  haste,  and  became  rigid  in  apparently 
lifeless  immobility.  Now  and  then  a  nervous  cough- 
ing was  heard. 

"  Ranks,  attention  !  "  rang  out  Shulgovich's 
order. 

Romashov,  glancing  to  the  right,  discovered,  at 
a  good  distance  down  the  plain,  a  small  but  dense 
group  of  horsemen  who,  now  and  then  obscured  for 
an  instant  by  a  faint  yeUow  cloud  of  dust,  were 
rapidly  approaching  the  front.  Shulgovich  rode, 
with  a  severe  and  solemn  countenance,  from  his 
place  in  front  of  the  middle  company,  right  out 
into  the  plain,  most  certainly  a  good  fourth  further 
than  the  regulations  demanded.  The  tremendous 
importance  of  the  moment  was  reflected  in  his 
features.  With  a  gesture  of  noble  dignity,  he  first 
glanced  upwards,  then  calmed  the  dark,  motionless 
mass  of  soldiers  by  a  glance,  withering,  it  is  true, 
but  mingled  with  tremulous  exultation,  and  then  let 
his  stentorian  voice  roll  over  the  plain,  when  com- 
manding— 

"  Attention  1     Should— er " 


THE    DUEL  22  1 

He  purposely  kept  back  the  last  syllable  of  that 
longest  word  of  command — the  so-called  "  effec- 
tive "  word,  just  as  if  an  infinite  power  and  sanctity 
lay  hidden  in  the  pronunciation  of  those  few  wretched 
letters.  His  countenance  became  a  bluish -red,  the 
veins  in  his  neck  were  strained  like  thick  cords, 
and,  finally,  the  releasing  word  was  discernible  jn 
the  wHd-beast-hke  roar — 
arms  I 

One — two.  A  thousand  slamming  and  rattling 
of  hard  blows  from  soldiers'  'fists  on  the  stocks  of 
their  rifles,  and  the  violent  contact  of  locks  with 
the  coarse  metal  clasps  of  belts  echoed  through  the 
air.  At  the  same  moment  the  electrifying  strains 
of  the  regimental  march  were  audible  from  the 
right  wing.  Like  wild,  excited,  undisciplined 
children  let  loose,  the  flutes  and  cornets  ran  riot, 
trying  by  their  shrill,  ear -piercing  voices  to  drown 
the  coarse  bellowing  of  trombones  and  ophicleides, 
whUst  the  thunder  of  drums  and  kettledrums,  warn- 
ing and  threatening,  exhorted  frivolous,  thought- 
less young  men  of  the  consideration  due  to 
the  seriousness  and  supreme  importance  of  the 
moment.  From  the  station  there  rang  out,  almost 
like  a  soothing  piccolo -strain,  the  whistle  of  Jhe 
engine,  mingling  harmoniously  with  the  joyful  music 
of  the  band. 

Romashov  suddenly  felt  himself  caught,  as  it  were, 
by  a  mighty,  roaring  wave  that,  irresistibly  and 
exultingly,  carried  him  away.  With  a  sensation 
of  joy  and  courage  such  as  h)e  had  never  experi- 
enced before,  his  glance  met  the  sun's  gold -steeped 
rays,  and  it  seemed  to  h^n  as  if,  at  that  moment, 
he  was,  for  the  first  time,  conscijous  of  the  blue 
sky  paled  by  the  heat,  and  the  warm  verdure  of 
the  plain  that  disappeared  in  the  far  distance.     Eor 


222  THE   DUEL 

once  he  felt  young  and  strong  and  eager  to  dis- 
tinguish himself  ;  proud,  too,  of  belonging  to  this 
tnagnificent,  motionless,  imposing  mass  of  men, 
gathered  together  and  quelled  by  an  invisible, 
mysterious  will. 

Shulgovich,  with  his  sabre  drawn  to  a  level  with 
his  face,  rode  in  a  ponderous  gallop  to  meet  the 
General. 

Directly  the  band's  rough  martial,  triumphant 
strains  had  ceased,  the  General's  calm,  musical  voice 
rang  out — 

"  Good -day,    1st  Company." 

The  soldiers  answered  his  salutation  promptly  and 
joyfully.  Again  the  locomotive  made  its  voice  heard, 
but  this  time  in  the  form  of  a,  sharp,  defiant  signal. 
The  Brigadier -General  rode  slowly  along  the  line, 
saluting  the  companies  in  their  proper  order. 
Romashov  could  already  distinguish  his  heavy,  obese 
(figure  with  the  thin  linen  jacket  turned  up  in  deep 
folds  across  his  chest  and  fat  belly  ;  his  big  square 
face  turned  towards  the  troops  ;  the  gorgeous 
saddle-cloth  with  his  monogram  embroidered  m 
bright  colours,  the  majestic  grey  charger,  the  ivory 
rings  on  the  martingale,  and  patent-leather  ridmg 

boots . 

"  Good -day,   6th  Company." 

The  soldiers  round  Romashov  replied  with  a  shout 
that  was  pretty  nearly  destructive  both  to  throats 
and  ear-drums.  The  General  sat  his  horse  ,with 
the  careless  grace  of  an  accomplished  rider.  His 
noble  charger,  with  the  gentle,  steadfast  glance  from 
his  handsome,  though  slightly  bloodshot  eyes, 
tugged  hard  at  its  bit,  from  which,  now  and  then, 
a  few  white  foam -drops  fell  to  the  ground,  and 
careered  gently  on  with  short,  quick,  dancing  ^teps. 

-•  He's  grey  about  the  temples,  but  his  moustache 


THE    DUEL  223 

is  black — dyed,  perhaps,"   was  Romashov's   reflec- 
tion just  then. 

Through  his  gold -rimmed  pince-nez  the  General 
answered  with  his  dark,  clever,  youthful  and  satiri- 
cally questioning  eyes  the  soldiers*  glances  directed 
at  him.  When  he  came  up  to  Romashov  he  touched 
the  peak  of  his  cap  with  his  .hand.  Romashov 
stood  quite  still,  with  every  muscle  strained  in  the 
most  correct  attitude  of  "  attention,"  and  he  clasped 
the  hilt  of  his  sabre  with  such  a  hard,  crushinig 
grip  that  it  almost  caused  him  pain.  A  shudder  of 
infinite,  enthusiastic  devotion  rushed  through  his 
whole  being,  and  whilst  looking  fixedly  at  the 
General's  face,  he  thought  to  himself  in  his  old 
naive,  childish  way — 

"  The  grey -haired  old  warrior's  glances  noted 
with  delight  the  young  ensign's  slender,  well-built 
figure." 

The  General  continued  his  slow  ride  along  the 
front,  saluting  company  after  company.  Behind  him 
moved  his  suite — a  promiscuous,  resplendent  group 
of  staff  officers,  whose  horses  shone  with  profuse 
rubbing  down  and  dressing.  Romashov  glanced 
at  them,  too,  benevolently,  but  not  one  of  them 
took  the  slightest  notice  of  him.  These  spoilt 
favourites  of  fortune  had  long  since  had  more  than 
enough  of  parades,  reviews,  and  the  boundless 
enthusiasm  of  Httle,  insignificant  infantry  officers, 
and  Romashov  felt  in  his  heart  a  bitter,  rebellious 
feeling  at  the  thought  that  these  superior  people 
belonged  to  a  world  quite  beyond  his  reach. 

The  band  suddenly  received  a  sign  to  stop  play- 
ing. The  General  returned  at  a  sharp  trot  to  the 
right  wing,  and  after  him,  in  a  long,  variegated 
line,  his  mounted  suite.  Colonel  Shulgovich  galloped 
off   to   the    1st    Company.      Pulling   his   reins   and 


224  THE    DUEL 

throwing  all  his  enormous  body  back  in  the  saddle, 
he  yelled  in  a  hoarse  and  trembling  voice — 

"  Captain  Osadchi,  advance  company.  Quick, 
march  1  " 

Between  the  commander  of  the  regiment  and 
Captain  Osadchi  there  was  an  incessant  rivalry, 
during  driU  hours,  to  outdo  each  other  in  lung, 
power,  and  not  many  seconds  elapsed  before  the 
latter  was  heard  to  order  in  his  jnighty,  rolling 
bass — 

"  Company,  shoulder  arms  !  Dress  in  the  middle. 
Forward,  march  !  "  Osadchi  had,  with  fearful  sacri- 
fice of  time  and  labour,  succeeded  in  introducing 
in  his  company  a  new  kind  of  marching.  This 
consisted  in  the  soldiers  raising  their  foot  high  in 
the  air  in  very  slow  time,  and  afterwards  putting 
it  down  on  the  ground  with  the  greatest  possible 
force.  This  wonderful  and  imposing  manner  of 
moving  along  the  ground  excited  not  only  much 
interest,  but  also  a  certain  envy  among  the  other 
captains  of  companies. 

But  the  1st  Company  had  hardly  marched  fifty 
paces  before  they  heard  the  General's  angry  and 
impatient  voice  exclaim — 

"  What  the  deuce  is  this  ?  Halt  with  the  com- 
pany. Halt,  halt  I  Come  here  to  me.  Captain. 
Tell  me,  sir,  what  in  the  name  of  goodness  that  is' 
supposed  to  represent.  Is  it  a  funeral  or  a  torch- 
procession?  Say.  March  in  three-time.  Listen, 
sir,  we're  not  hving  in  the  days  of  Nicholas,  when 
a  soldier  served  for  twenty-five  years.  How  many 
precious  days  have  you  wasted  in  practising  this 
corps  de  ballet "i     Answer  me." 

Osadchi  stood  gloomy,  still  and  silent  before  his 
angry  chief,  with  his  drawn  sabre  pointing  to  the 
ground.     The  General  was  silent  for  an  instant,  and 


THE    DUEL  225 

then  resumed  his  harangue   with   an  expression   of 
sorrow  and  irony  in  his  voice — 

*'  By  this  sort  of  insanity  you  will  soon  succeed 
in  extinguishing  the  last  spark  of  life  in  your 
soldiers.  Don't  you  think  so  yourself?  Oh,  you 
luckless  ghosts  from'  Ivan  the  Cruel's  days  1  But 
enough  of  this.  Allow  me  instead  to  |ask  you, 
Captain,  the  name   of  this   young  lad."  , 

"  Ignati  Mikhailovich,  your  Excellency,"  replied 
Osadchi  in  the   dry,   sepulchral,   regulation  voice. 

:"  Well  and  good.  But  what  do  you  know  about 
him?  Is  he  a  bachelor,  or  has  he  a  wife  and 
children?  Perhaps  he  has  some  trouble  at  home? 
Or  he  is   very  poor?     Answer   m'e." 

*'  I  can't  say,  your  Excellency?  I  have  a  hundred 
men  under  my  command.  It  is  hard  to  remember 
all  about  them." 

"  Hard  to  remember,  did  you  say?  "  repeated 
the  General  in  a  sad  and  serious  voice.  "  Ah, 
gentlemen,  gentlemen.  You  must  certainly  know 
what  the  Scripture  says  :  '  Do  not  destroy  the  soul,' 
and  what  are  you  doing  ?  That  poor,  grey,  wretched 
creature  standing  there,  may,  perhaps,  some  day, 
in  the  hour  of  battle,  protect  you  by  his  body, 
carry  you  on  his  shoulders  out  of  a  hail  of  bullets, 
may,  with  his  ragged  cloak,  protect  you  against 
snow  and  frost,  and  yet  you  have  nothing  to  say 
about   him,   but    '  I    can't    say  !  '  " 

In  his  nervous  excitement  the  General  pulled  in 
the  reins  and  shouted  over  Osadchi 's  head,  in  an 
angry  voic3,  to  the  commander  of  the  regiment — 

'"  Colonel,  get  this  company  out  of  my  way.  I 
have  had  enough.  Nothing  but  marionettes  and 
blockheads."  1 

From  that  moment  the  fate  of  the  regiment  was 
sealed.     The  terrified  soldiers'  absolute  exhaustion, 

15 


2  26  THE    DUEt: 

the  non-coms.'  lunatical  cruelty,  the  officers'  in- 
capacity, indifference,  and  laziness — all  this  came 
out  clearly  as  the  review  proceeded.  In  the  2nd 
Company  the  soldiers  did  not  even  know  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  In  the  3rd,  the  officers  ran  like  wild  fowls 
when  the  company  was  to  be  drilled  in  "  open 
order."  In  the  4th,  the  manual  exercise  was  below 
criticism,  etc.  The  worst  of  all  was,  however,  that 
none  of  the  companies,  with  the  exception  of  the 
5th,  knew  how  to  meet  a  sudden  charge  of  cavalry. 
Now,  this  was  precisely  the  General's  hobby  ;  he 
had  published  independently  copious  instructions  on 
this,  in  which  he  pointed  out  minutely  the  vital 
imJ)ortance  of  the  troops'  mobility  and  quickness, 
and  of  their  leader's   resolution  and  deliberation. 

After  each  company  had  in  turn  been  reviewed, 
the  General  commanded  the  officers,  both  commis- 
sioned and  non-commissioned,  to  go  out  of  ear-shot, 
after  which  he  questioned  the  soldiers  with  regard 
to  their  wishes  and  grounds  of  complaint  ;  but 
everywhere  he  met  with  the  same  good-humoured 
reply  :  **  Satisfied  with  everything,  your  Excellency." 
When  that  question  was  put  to  No.  i  Company, 
Romashov  heard  an  ensign  in  it  renxark  in  a 
threatening  voice — 

"  Just  let  me  hear  any  one  daring  to  complain  ; 
I'll  give  him   '  complaints  *  !  " 

For  the  5  th  Company  only  was  the  whole  review 
a  complete  triumph.  The  brave,  young,  lusty 
soldiers  executed  all  their  movements  with  life  and 
energy,  and  with  such  facility,  mobility,  and  absence 
of  all  pedantry  that  the  whole  of  the  review  seemed 
to  officers  and  men,  not  a  severe,  painful  examina- 
tion, but  like  a  jolly  and  amusing  game.  The 
General  smiled  his  satisfaction,  and  soon  could  not 
refrain  from  a   "  Well  done,   my  lads  " — the  first 


THE    DUEL  227 

words    of   approval    he    uttered    during    the    whole 
time. 

When,  however,  the  ominous  pretended  charge 
was  to  be  met,  Stelikovski  literally  took  the  old 
General  by  storm.  The  General  himself  started  the 
exercise  by  suddenly  shouting  to  the  commander  of 
the  company  :  "  Cavalry  from  the  right,  eight 
hundred  paces."  Stelikovski  formed,  without  a 
second's  hesitation  and  with  the  greatest  calm  and 
precision,  his  company  to  meet  the  supposed  enemy, 
which  seemed  to  approach  at  a  furious  gallop.  With 
compactly  closed  ranks — the  fore-rank  in  a  kneeling 
position — the  troops  fired  two  or  three  rounds,  im- 
mediately after  which  was  heard  the  fateful 
command  :    "  Quick  fire  I  " 

"  Thanks,  my  children,"  cried  the  old  General 
joyously — "  that's  the  way  it  should  be  done. 
Thanks,  thanks.*" 

After  the  oral  examination  the  company  was 
drawn  up  in  open  file  ;  but  the  General  delayed  his 
final  dismissal.  It  was  as  if  it  seemed  hard  to  him 
to  say  good-bye  to  this  company.  Passing  as  slowly 
as  possible  along  the  front,  he  observed  every  soldier 
with  particular  and  deep  interest,  and  a  very  de- 
lighted smile  gleamed  through  the  pince-nez  from 
the  clever  eyes  beneath  the  heavy,  prominent  eye- 
brows. Suddenly  he  stopped  his  charger,  turned 
round  on  his  saddle  to  the  head  of  his  staff,  and 
exclaimed — 

"  No  ;  come  here  and  look.  Colonel,  what  muzzles 
the  rascals  have.  What  do  you  feed  them  on, 
Captain?  Pies?  Hi,  you  thick  nose  "  (he  pointed 
to  a  young  soldier  in  the  ranks),  "  your  name's 
Kovdl?  " 

*'  Mikhail  Borichuk,  your  Excellency,"  boldly 
replied  the  young  recruit  with  a  frank,  happy  smile. 


2  28  THE    DUEL 

"  Oh,  you  scamp,  I  thought  you  -were  called  Kov^l. 
Well,  this  time  I  was  out  of  my  reckoning,"  said 
the  General  in  fun,  "  but  there's  no  harm  done  j 
better  luck  next  time,"  he  added,  with  the  same 
good-humour. 

At  these  words  the  soldier's  countenance  puckered 
in  a  broad  grin. 

"  No,  your  Excellency,  you  are  not  wrong  at  all," 
shouted  the  soldier  in  a  raised  voice.  "  At  home,  in 
the  village,  I  am  employed  as  a  farrier,  and,  there- 
fore, they  call  me  Koval." 

The  General  nodded  in  delight,  and  he  was 
evidently  >  very  proud  of  his  memory,  "Well, 
Captain,  is  he  a  good  soldier?" 

"  Very  good.  General.  All  my  soldiers  are 
good,"  (replied  Stelikovski  in  his  usual  confident 
tone. 

The  General's  eyebrows  were  knitted,  but  his  lips 
kept  smiling,  and  the  crabbed  old  face  gradually 
resumed  its  light  and  friendly  expression.  "  Well, 
well,  .Captain  ;  we  will  see  about  that.  How  is 
the   punishment-list?" 

"  Your  Excellency,  for  five  years  not  a  single 
man  in  my  company  has  been  punished." 

The  General  bent  forward  heavily  and  held  out 
to  Stelikovski  his  hairy  hand  in  the  white,  un-i 
buttoned  glove  that  had  slipped  down  to  the 
knuckles . 

"  I  heartily  thank  you,  my  friend,"  he  replied  in 
a  trembling  voice,  and  tears  glistened  in  his  eyes. 
The  General,  like  many  old  warriors,  liked,  now 
and  then,  to  shed  a  slight  tear.  "  Again  my  thanks 
for  having  given  an  old  man  pleasure.  And  you, 
too,  my  brave  boys,  accept  my  thanks,"  he  shouted 
in  a  loud  and  vigorous  voice  to  the  soldiers. 

Thanks  to  the  good  impression  left  behind  from; 


THE    DUEL  229 

Stelikovski's  inspection,  the  review  of  the  6th 
Company  also  went  off  nearly  satisfactorily  ;  the 
General  did  certainly  not  bestow  praise,  but  neither 
were  any  reproaches  heard.  At  the  bayonet  attack 
on  the  straw  mannikin  this  company  even  went 
astray . 

"  Not  that  way,  not  that  way,  not  that  way  I  " 
screamed  the  General,  shaking  with  wrath  in  the 
saddle.  "  Hold,  stop  !  that's  damnable.  You  go 
to  work  as  if  you  were  making  a  hole  in  soft 
bread.  Listen,  boys.  That's  not  the  way  to  deal 
with  an  enemy.  The  bayonet  should  be  driven  in 
forcibly  and  furiously  right  in  the  waist  up  to  the 
muzzle   of   your    rifle.      Don't    forget." 

The  remaining  companies  made,  one  after  the 
other,  a  hopeless  "  hash  "  of  everything.  At  last 
the  General's  outburst  of  anger  ceased.  Tired  and 
listless,  he  watched  the  miserable  spectacle  with 
gloomy  looks,  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  he 
entirely  excused  himself  from  inspecting  the  1 5th 
and  1 6th  Companies,  exclaiming  with  a  gesture  of 
disgust — 

"  Enough,  enough  of  such  abortions." 
There  still  remained  the  grand  march  past,  and 
the  parade.  The  whole  regiment  was  formed  into 
columns  with  half  companies  in  front,  and  reduced 
gaps.  Again  the  everlasting  markers  were  ordered 
out  to  set  the  line  of  march  by  their  ropes. 
The  heat  was  now  almost  unbearable,  and  the 
soldiers  could  hardly  bear  any  longer  the  fearful 
stench  that  exuded  from  their  own  freely  j>erspiring 
bodies . 

But  for  the  forthcoming  "  solemn  "  march  past, 
the  men  now  made  a  final  effort  to  pull  themselves 
together.  The  officers  almost  besought  their  sub- 
ordinates to  strain  every  nerve  for  this  final  proof 


230  THE    DUEL 

of  their  endurance  and  discipline.  "  Brothers,  for 
the  honour  of  the  regiment,  do  your  best.  Save 
yourselves  and  us  from  disgracing  ourselves  before 
the  General."  In  this  humble  recourse  on  the  part 
of  the  officers  to  their  subordinates  there  lay — 
besides  much  else  that  was  little  edifying — too,  an 
indirect  recognition  of  their  own  faults  and  short- 
comings. The  wrath  aroused  in  such  a  great 
personage  as  the  General  of  the  regiment  was  felt 
to  be  equally  painful  and  oppressive  to  officers  and 
troops  alike,  and  it  had,  to  some  extent,  a  levelling 
effect,  so  that  all  were,  in  an  equally  high  degree, 
dispirited,   nervous,    and   a{)athetic. 

"  Attention  !  The  band  in  front  !  "  ordered 
Colonel  Shulgovich,  in  the  far  distance. 

And  all  these  fifteen  hundred  human  beings  for  a 
second  suppressed  their  faint  inward  murmurings  ; 
all  muscles  were  once  more  strained,  and  again  they 
stood  in  ner>-ous,  painful  expectation. 

Shulgovich  could  not  be  detected  by  any  eye,  but 
his  tremendous  voice  again  rang  across  the  field — 

*'  Stand  at  ease  !  " 

Four  battalion  Captains  turned  in  their  saddles  to 
their  respective  divisions,  and  each  uttered  the 
commaiid — 

"  Battalion,  stand  at "  after  which  they  awaited 

with  feverish  nervousness  the  word  of  command. 

Somewhere,  far  away  on  the  field,  a  sabre 
suddenly  gleamed  Uke  lightning  in  the  air.  This 
was  the  desired  signal,  and  all  the  Captains  at  once 
roared — 

" ease  !  "  whereujjon  all  the  regiment,  with  a 

dull  thud,  grounded  their  rifles.  Here  and  there 
was  heard  the  click  of  a  few  imfortunate  bayonets 
which,  in  the  movement,  happened  to  clash  together. 

But  now^  at  last,  the  solemn,  never-to-be-forgotten 


THE    DUED  231 

moment  had  arrived,  when  the  commander  of  the 
regiment's  tremendous  lungs  were  to  be  heard  by 
the  world  in  all  their  awful  majesty.  Solemnly, 
confidently,  but,  at  the  same  time,  menacingly,  like 
slow  rumblings  of  thunder,  the  strongly  accentuated 
syllables  rolled  across  the  plain  in  the  command — 

"  March  past  !  " 

In  the  next  moment  you  might  hear  sixteen 
Captains  risking  their  lives  in  mad  attempt  to  shout 
each  other  down,  when  they  rej>eated  all  at  once — 

"  March  past  I  " 

One  single  poor  sinner  far  away  in  detail  of  the 
column  managed  to  come  too  late.  He  whined  in 
a   melancholy    falsetto  : 

"  March  pa—   !  " 

The  rest  of  the  word  was  unfortunately  lost  to 
the  men,  and  probably  drowned  in  the  oaths  and 
threats    of   the   bystanders. 

"  Column  in  half  companies  1  "  roared  Colonel 
Shulgovich. 

"  Column  in  half  companies  1  "  repeated  the 
Captains . 

"  With  double  platoon — hollow  I  "  chanted  Shul- 
govich . 

"  With  double  platoon — hollow  !  "  answered  the 
choir. 

"  Dress-ing — ri-ight  !  "  thundered  the   giant. 

"  Dress-ing — ri-ight  I  "    came  from  the  dwarfs. 

Shulgovich  now  took  breath  for  two  or  three 
seconds,  after  which  he  once  more  gave  vent  to 
his  voice  of  thunder  in  the  command — 

"  First   half   company — forward — march  I  " 

Rolling  heavily  through  the  dense  ranks  across 
the  level  plain  came  Osadchi's  dull  roar — 

"  First  half  company,  dress  to  the  right — forward 
— march  1  " 


232  THE    DUEL 

Away  in  the  front  was  heard  the  merry  rattle  of 
drums.  Seen  from  the  rear,  the  column  resembled 
a  forest  of  bayonets  which  often  enough  waved 
backwards   and    forwards . 

"  Second  half  company  to  the  middle  I  "  Romas- 
hov  recognized   Artschakovski's   squeaky  falsetto. 

A  new  line  of  bayonets  assumed  a  leaning  position 
and  departed.  The  thunder  of  the  drums  grew  more 
and  more  faint,  and  was  just  about  to  sink  down,  as 
it  were,  and  be  absorbed  in  the  ground,  when  sud- 
denly the  last  sounds  of  drum-beats  were  dispersed 
by  the  rhythmically  jubilant,  irresistible  waves  of 
music  from  the  wind  instruments.  The  sleepy 
marching  time  of  the  companies  filing  past  at  once 
caught  fire  and  life  ;  languid  eyes  and  greyish  cheeks 
regained  their  colour,  and  tired  muscles  were  once 
more  braced  to  save  the  honour  of  the  regiment. 

The  half  companies  proceeded  to  march,  one  after 
the  other,  and  at  every  step  the  soldiers'  torpid 
spirits  were  revived  under  the  influence  of  the  band's 
cheerful  strains.  The  ist  Battalion's  last  company 
had  already  got  some  distance  when,  lo  I  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Liech  advanced  gently  on  his  thin, 
raven-black  horse,  followed  close  at  his  heels  by 
Olisdr.  Both  had  their  sabres  ready  for  the  salute, 
with  their  sabre-hilts'  knots  dangling  on  a  level 
with  their  mouths.  Soon  Stelikovski's  quiet,  non- 
chalant command  was  heard.  High  above  the 
bayonets,  the  standard  lorded  on  its  long  pole,  and  it 
was  now  the  6th  Company's  turn  to  march.  Captain 
Sliva  stepped  to  the  front  and  inspected  his  men  by 
a  glance  from  his  pale,  prominent,  fishy  eyes.  With 
his  miserable  shrunken  figure  stooping,  and  his  long 
arms,  he  had  a  striking  resemblance  to  an  ugly 
old  monkey. 

"  F-irst  half  company — forward  1  " 


THE    DUEL  233 

With  a  light  and  elegant  step  Romashov  hurried 
to  his  place  right  in  front  of  the  second  half 
company's  pivot.  A  blissful,  intoxicating  feeling  of 
pride  came  over  him  whilst  he  allowed  his  glance 
to  glide  quickly  over  the  first  row  of  his  division. 
"  The  old  swashbuckler  viewed  with  an  eagle's 
eyes  the  brave  band  of  veterans,"  he  declain^ed 
silently,  after  which  in  a  prolonged  sing-song  he 
gave    the   order — 

"  Second  half  comlpany — forward  1  " 

"  One,  two,"  Romashov  counted  softly  to  himself, 
marking  time  with  a  soft  stamping  on  the  spot. 
Pronouncing  the  word  at  the  right  moment  was 
of  infinite  importance,  as  upon  it  depended  the 
exact  carrying  out  of  the  inexorable  command  that 
the  half  company  should  begin  marching  with  the 
proper  foot,  i.e.,  with  the  same  foot  as  the  pre- 
ceding division,  'Meft,  right;  left,  right."  At  last 
a  start  was  made.  With  head  erect,  and  beaming* 
with  a  smile  of  boundless  happiness,  he  cried  in 
a  loud,  resonant  voice — 

'•  March  1  "• 

A  second  afterwards  he  made,  as  quick  as 
lightning,  a  complete  turn  on  one  foot  towards 
his  men,  and  commanded,  two  tones  lower  in 
the  scale — 

"  Dress— right  !  " 

The  profound  solemnity  and  "  infinite  beauty  " 
of  the  moment  almost  took  away  his  breath.  At 
that  instant  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  music's 
waves  of  melody  surrounded  him,  and  were  changed 
into  a  seething,  blinding  ocean  of  light  and  fire  ; 
as  if  these  deafening  brazen  peals  had  descended 
on  him  from  on  high,  from  heaven,  from  the  sun. 
Even  now,  as  at  his  last  never-to-be-forgotten  tryst 
with    Shurochka,    he    was    thrilled    by    a    freezing, 


234  THE    DUEL 

petrifying  shudder  that  made  the  very  hair  on  his 
head  stand  up. 

With  joy  in  their  voices  and  in  time  with  the 
miisic,  the  5th  Company  replied  to  the  General's 
salute.  Nearer  and  nearer  to  Romashov  sounded 
the  jubilant  notes  of  the  parade  march.  On  the 
right  and  onwards,  he  could  now  distinguish  the 
General's  heavy  figure  on  his  grey  horse,  and, 
somewhat  farther  off,  the  ladies'  brilliant  dresses, 
which,  in  fKe  blinding^  glare  of  the  noon-day  sun, 
reminded  him  of  the  flaming  flowier -petals  in  the 
old  sagas.  On  the  left  gleamed  the  bandsmen's 
gold  instruments,  and  it  seemed  to  Romashov  as  if, 
between  the  General  and  the  band,  was  drawn  an 
invisible,  enchanted  thread,  the  passing  of  which 
was  combined  peril  and  bliss. 

At  this  moment  the  first  half  company  reached 
"  the  thread." 

"  Good,  my  lads,"  rang  the  General's  delighted 
voice.  "  Ah,  ah,  ah,  ah  1  "  was  the  soldiers'  rapid 
joyous  answer.  Stronger  and  stronger  at  every 
second  grew  the  alluring  influence  of  the  parade 
march,  and  Romashov  could  hardly  restrain  his 
feelings  any  longer.  "  O  thou,  my  ideal,"  thought 
he  of  the  General,  with  deep  emotion. 

The  blissful  moment  had  come.  With  elastic 
strides  that  scarcely  touched  the  ground,  Romashov 
approached  his  "  enchanted  thread."  He  threw  his 
head  bravely  back  with  a  proud  and  defiant  twist 
to  the  left.  So  potent  a  feeling  of  lightness, 
freedom,  and  bliss  rushed  through  his  being  that 
he  fancied  he  could  at  any  moment  whirl  himself 
into  space.  And  while  he  felt  he  was  an  object 
of  delight  and  admiration  to  the  eyes  of  all — a 
centre  of  all  the  universe  contains  of  strength, 
beauty,  and  delight,  he  said  to  himself,  as  though 
under  the  witchery  of  a  heavenly  dream' — 


THE    DUEL  235 

**  Look,  look,  there  goes  Romashov  !  The  ladies* 
eyes  are  shining  with  love  and  admiration.  One, 
two  ;  left,  right,  '  Colonel  Shulgovich,'  shouts  the 
General,  '  your  Romashov  is  a  priceless  jewel  ;  he 
must  be  my  Adjutant.'     Left,  right  !     One,  two  !  " 

Another  second  and  Romashov  knew  he  had 
started  and  passed  his  mystic  "  thread."  The  parade 
march  had  changed  to  a  joyous  peal  of  trumpets 
announcing  victory.  "  Now  comes  the  General's 
salute  and  thanks,"  thought  Romashov,  and  his 
soul  returns  to  the  regions  of  bliss  ;  but  he  fancies 
he  hears  the  Colonel's  voice  and  certain  other 
voices. 

"  What  has  happened  ;  what  is  the  matter  ?  Of 
course  the  General  has  saluted,  but  why  don't  my 
men  respond? — What's  this?  " 

Romashov  turned  round,  and  his  face  became 
white.  Instead  of  a  well-ordered  troop  in  two 
lines  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  his  men  formed  a 
shapeless  mass — a  crowd — resembling  a  flock  of 
sheep — of  individuals  mad  with  imbecility  and 
misery,  pushing  and  jolting  each  other.  The  cause 
of  this  was  that  Romashov,  whilst  he  was  in  his 
paradisaical  world  of  dreams  and  intoxication  of 
victory,  failed  to  notice  that,  step  by  step,  he 
deviated  from  the  line  of  march,  and  more  and 
more  approached  the  right  wing  of  his  division. 
His  trusty,  unfortunate  "  markers  "  followed  close 
on  the  heels  of  their  leader,  and,  of  course,  in 
consequence  of  this  the  whole  of  the  half  company 
finally  got  into  the  wildest  confusion.  Romashov 
saw  all  this  at  the  very  moment  lie  became  aware 
that  the  wretched  Khliabnikov  was  stalking,  on  his 
own  account,  twenty  paces  behind  the  division,  right 
under  the  very  nose  of  the  General. 

Romashov     immediately    let     his     wings    droop. 


236  THE    DUEL 

Covered  with  dust,  he  stood  quite  still  to  await  and 
collect  his  poor  veterans,  who,  absolutely  dead 
beaten  with  the  weight  of  their  knapsacks  and 
ammunition,  were  now  hardly  able  to  crawl  along 
on  all -fours  with  one  hand  still  grasping  the  rifle 
and  the  other  fumbling  in  the  air  or  in  the  region 
of  their  perspiring  noses. 

To  Romashov  it  seemed  as  if  the  glorious  May 
sun  had  suddenly  lost  its  radiance  ;  as  if  he  had 
been  buried  under  an  infinite  weight,  under  sand 
and  gravel,  and  that  the  music  that  so  lately 
sounded  such  triumphant  strains  now  rang  softly 
and  ominously  in  his  ears,  like  a  funeral  march. 
And  he  felt  so  small  and  weak  and  wretched,  so 
loathsome  in  every  respect,  that  it  was  all  he  could 
do  to  keep  himself  upright  on  his  leaden,  palsied 
legs. 

The  Colonel's  Adjutant  at  that  moment  rushed  up 
to  him.  Federovski's  face  was  as  red  as  fire  and 
distorted  with  passion.  His  lower  jaw  trembled, 
and  he  was  panting  with  rage  and  his  hard  riding. 
Even  at  a  distance  he  began  shrieking  like  a  man 
possessed,  and  uttering  inarticulate  and  incompre- 
hensible  words . 

"  Sub-lieutenant  Romashov,  the  commander  of 
your  regiment  condemns,  in  the  strongest  terms, 
your  behaviour  to-day.  Seven  days'  arrest  in  the 
staff  cells.  What  a  monstrous  scandal  1  The 
whole  regiment — on  account  of  you.  Oh,  such  an 
abortion  !  " 

Romashov  did  not  make  the  slightest  reply,  nor 
did  he  even  turn  his  head.  And,  besides,  what 
answer  could  he  make  ?  Federovski  had,  most 
certainly,  a  right  to  be  furious.  But  the  troops, 
the  soldiers  who  heard  every  single  insulting  word  of 
the  Adjutant's — what  would  they  think?     Romashov 


THE    DUEL  237 

felt  at  that  moment  a  boundless  hatred  and  con- 
tempt of  himself.  "  I  am  lost  ;  I  am  dishonoured 
for  ever.  I'll  shoot  myself.  Can  I  suppose  I  am 
worthy  to  live  !  What  am  I  ?  An  insignificant, 
ridiculous,  contemptible  wretch — a  caricature,  an 
ugly,  disgusting,  idiotic  creature.  My  own  soldiers 
will  laugh  at  me,  and,  behind  my  back,  they  will 
make  merry  with  nudges  and  secret  signs,  at 
my  expense.  Or,  perhaps,  they  will  pity  me.  All 
the  same,  everything  is  lost,  and  I — I'll  shoot 
myself." 

After  passing  the  General,  all  the  companies  made 
a  half -turn  to  the  left,  and  then  went  back  to 
their  original  places,  where  they  were  successively 
drawn  up  again  and  in  open  file.  Whilst  waiting  for 
the  return  of  the  last  companies  to  march  past,  the 
men  were  allowed  to  "  stand  easy,"  and  the  officers 
utilized  the  occasion  to  smoke  a  cigarette  and  chat 
with  one  another.  Only  Romashov  stood  quite 
alone,  silent  and  motionless  in  front  of  his  half 
company.  He  dug  the  earth  incessantly  with  the 
point  of  his  sabre,  and  though  he  cast  his  eyes 
down  fixedly,  he  felt  he  was,  on  all  sides,  a  mark 
for  curious,  sarcastic,  and  contemptuous  glances. 

Captain  Sliva  purposely  passed  by  Romashov 
without  stopping  except  to  look  at  him,  and  spoke, 
as  it  were,  to  himself  through  his  clenched  teeth, 
and  in  a  voice  hoarse  and  unrecognizable  through 
hatred  and  fury — 

'*  Be  good  enough  to  send  in  to-day  a  request 
to    be  transferred  to   anotTier   company. '* 

A  little  while  afterwards  Viatkin  came.  In  his 
kindly,  frank  glance  and  the  drawn  comers  of  his 
mouth,  Romashov  read  that  expression  of  pity  and 
compassion  with  which  people  usually  regard  a  dog 
that  has  been  run  over  and  crushed  in  the  street. 


238  THE    DUEL 

And,  at  the  same  time,  Romashov  felt  with  disgust 
that  he  had,  half  mechanically,  twisted  his  mouth 
into  an  unmeaning,  pitiful  smile. 

"  Yuri  Alexievich,"  exclaimed  Viatkin,  "  come  and 
smoke  a  cigarette  with  me,"  and  with  a  click  of 
the  tongue  and  slightly  throwing  his  head  back, 
he  added  in  a  despondent  tone — 

"  Well,  well,  old  chap  !  " 

Romashov's  chin  and  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
twitched,  and  a  lump  came  into  his  throat.  Tears 
were  not  far  off,  and  he  replied  in  the  faltering 
and  fretful  voice  of  an  aggrieved  child — 

"  No,  no  ;  not  now  ! — 1  don't  want  to  I  " 

Viatkin  withdrew. 

'-  Suppose  I  were  to  go  and  give  that  fellow 
Sliva  a  bang  on  his  ear,"  thought  Romashov, 
buffeted  here  and  there  by  his  melancholy  introspec- 
tions. "  pr  to  go  up  to  that  grey -bearded  General 
and  say  :  *  Aren't  you  asTiamed,  at  your  age,  to 
play  with  soldiers  and  torture  men  ?  Release  us 
from  here  instantly,  and  let  us  rest.  For  two  long 
weeks  the  soldiers  have  been  ill-treated  solely  on 
account  of  you.'  " 

Romashov,  however,  remembered  his  own  proud, 
stuck-up  thoughts  only  a  brief  while  ago — of  the 
young  ensign  as  handsome  as  a  picture,  of  the  ladies' 
ideal,  of  the  General's  favourite  future  Adjutant,  etc., 
etc. — and  he  felt  so  much  shame  and  pain  that  a 
deep  blush  overspread,  not  only  his  face,  but  even 
his  chest  and  back. 

"  You  wretched,  absurd,  contemptible  being  I  "  he 
sKfieked  to  himself  in  thought.  '^  Let  all  know 
that   I  shall  shoot   myself  to-day."- 

The  review  was  over.  The  regiment  had,  never- 
theless, to  parade  several  times  before  the  General, 


THE    DUEL  239 

first  by  companies  in  the  ordinary  march,  after- 
wards in  quick  march,  and  finally  in  close  columns. 
The  General  became  a  little  less  severe,  as  it 
were,  and  he  even  praised  the  soldiers  several 
times.  At  last  the  clock  was  close  upon  4  p.m. 
Then  at  length  the  men  got  a  little  rest  whilst 
the  officers  assembled  to  criticize  them. 

The  staff-trumpeter  blew  a  signal.  "  The  officers 
are  summoned  to  the  General,"  it  shouted  through 
the  companies. 

The  officers  left  the  ranks,  and  formed  them- 
selves into  a  dense  circle  round  the  General,  who 
remained  on  horseback,  stooping  and  visibly 
extremely  tired  ;  but  he  peered  through  his  glasses 
as  shrewdly  and  scornfully  as  before. 

"  I  shall  be  brief,"  said  he  in  an  abrupt  and 
decisive  tone.  "The  regiment  is  inefficient,  but 
that's  not  the  fault  of  the  soldiers,  but  of  the 
officers.  When  the  coachman  is  bad  the  horses  will 
not  go.  Gentlemen,  you  have  no  heart,  no  mind 
or  sympathy,  so  far  as  the  men's  needs  and  interests 
are  concerned.  Don't  forget,  '  Blessed  is  he  who 
lays  down  his  life  for  his  friend.'  With  you  there 
is  only  one  thought,  '  How  shall  I  best  please  the 
General  at  the  review  ?  *  You  treat  your  men  like 
plough  horses.  The  appearance  of  the  officers 
witnesses  to  moral  slovenliness  and  barbarism.  Here 
and  there  an  officer  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  village 
sexton  dressed  in  an  officer's  uniform.  Moreover, 
I  will  refer  to  my  orders  of  the  day  in  writing. 
An  ensign,  belonging  probably  to  the  sixth  or 
seventh  company,  lost  his  head  entirely  and  hope- 
lessly muddled  up  his  division.  Such  a  thing  is 
a  disgrace.)  I  do  not  want  a  jog-trot  march  in 
three -time,  but,  before  everything  else,  a  sound  and 
calm  judgment.'^  ;  f 


240  THE    DUEL 

'-  That  last  referred  to  me,"  thought  Romashov, 
and  he  fancied  he  felt  all  the  glances  of  those 
present  turned  towards  him  at  once.  But  nobody 
even  stirred  :  all  stood  speechless,  petrified,  with 
their  eyes  immovably  fixed  on  the  General's 
face. 

"  My  very  heartiest  thanks  to  the  Captain  of  the 
5th  Company.  Where  are  you,  Captain?  Oh,  there 
you  are  !  "  The  General,  a  little  theatrically,  took 
off  his  cap  with  both  hands  and  bared  his 
powerfully  shaped  bald  head,  whilst  making  a 
profound  bow  to  Stelikovski.  "Once  nlore  I  thank 
you,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  for  me  to  shake  youi 
by  the  hand.  If  God  should  ordain  that  this  corps 
is  to  fight  under  my  command,  remember.  Captain, 
that  the  first  dangerous  task  belongs  to  you.  And 
now,  gentlemen,  good-bye.  Your  work  for  the  day 
is  finished,  and  it  will  be  a  pleasure  for  me  to 
see  you  again,  but  under  different  and  more 
pleasing  circumstances.  Make  way  for  my  horse 
now.'* 

Colonel   Shulgovich  stepped  out  of  the  circle. 

"  Your  Excellency,  in  the  officers'  name,  I  invite 
you  respectfully  to  dine  at  our  mess.  "iWe  shall 
be " 

*'  No,,  I  'see  no  reason  for  that,"  interrupted  the 
General  dryly.  "  I  thank  you,  as  I  am  in  duty  bound 
to  do,  but  I  am  invited  to  Count  Liedochovski's." 

The  officers  cleared  a  way,  and  the  General 
galloped  off  to  the  place  where  the  regiment 
was  awaiting  the   officers'  "return. 

'-  I  thank  you,  my  lads,"  he  shouted  lustily  and 
kindly  to  the  soldiers.  "  I  give  you  two  days' 
leave.  And  now,  off  with  you  to  your  tents.  Quick 
march,    hurrah  I  " 

It  was  just  as  if  he  had,  by  this  last  brief  shout. 


THE    DUEL  241 

turned  the  whole  regiment  topsy-turvy.  With  a 
deafening  yell  of  delight,  fifteen  hundred  men  dis- 
persed, in  an  instant,  in  all  directions,  and  the 
ground  shook  beneath  the  feet  of  the  fugitives. 

Romashov  separated  himself  from  the  other 
officers,  who  returned,  in  groups,  to  the  town,  and 
took  a  long  circuit  through  the  camp.  He  felt 
7ust  then  like  a  banned,  excommunicated  fugitive  ; 
like  an  unworthy  member  expelled  from  the  circle 
of  his  comrades — nay,  even  like  a  creature  beyond 
the  pale  of  humanity,  in  soul  and  body  stunted 
and  despised. 

When  he  at  length  found  himself  behind  the 
camp,  near  his  own  mess,  he  heard  a  few  cries 
of  sudden  but  restrained  rage.  He  stood  an  instant 
and  saw  how  his  ensign,  Rynda — a  small,  red -faced, 
powerful  fellow — was,  with  frightful  invectives  and 
objurgations,  belabouring  with  his  fists  Khliab- 
nikov's  nose  and  cheeks.  In  the  poor  victim's 
almost  bestially  dull  eyes  one  could  see  an  inde- 
scribable terror,  and,  at  every  blow,  Khliabnikov 
staggered  now  to  the  right,  now  to  the  left. 

Romashov  hurried  away  from  the  spot  almost  at 
running  speed.  In  his  present  state  of  mind,  it  was 
beyond  his  power  to  protect  Khliabnikov  from 
further  ill-treatment.  It  seemed  to  Romashov  as 
if  this  wretched  soldier's  fate  had  to-day  become 
linked  with  his  own.  They  were  both,  he  thought, 
cripples,  who  aroused  in  mankind  the  same  feeling 
of  compassion  and  disgust.  This  similarity  in  their 
position  certainly  excited,  on  Romashov's  part,  an 
intolerable  feeling  of  shame  and  disgust  at  himself, 
but  also  a  consciousness  that  in  this  lay  something 
singularly  deep  and  truly  human. 

16 


XV 


Only  one  way  led  from  the  camp  to  the  town, 
viz.  over  the  railway-line,  which  at  this  spot  crossed 
a  deep  and  declivitous  ravine.  Romashov  ran 
briskly  down  the  narrow,  well-trodden,  almost 
precipitous  pathway,  and  was  beginning,  after  that, 
a  toilsome  clamber  up  the  other  slope.  He  had 
not  reached  more  than  half-way  to  the  top  of  the 
ravine  before  he  noticed  a  figure  there  in  uniform 
with  a  cloak  over  his  shoulders.  After  a  ftew  seconds' 
close  examination,  Romashov  recognized  his  friend 
Nikolaiev . 

"  Now,"  thought  Romashov,  "  comes  the  most 
disagreeable  of  all,"  and  he  could  not  suppress  a 
certain  unpleasant  feeling  of  anxiety  ;  but  he  con- 
tinued on  his  way  resigned  to  his  fate,  and  was 
soon  on  the  plateau. 

The  two  officers  had  not  seen  each  other  for  five 
days,  but  neither  of  them  made  even  an  intimation 
of  greeting,  and  it  seemed^  at  any  rate  to  Romas- 
hov, as  if  this  were  quite  the  correct  thing  on 
this   memorable,   miserable   day. 

"  I  have  purposely  waited  for  you  here,  Yuri 
Alexievich,"  began  Nikolaiev,  whilst  he  looked 
over  Romashov 's  shoulder  into  the  distance,  to- 
wards the  camp. 

"  I   am   at   your    service,   Vladimir   Yefimovich," 

replied  Romashov  in  a  strained,  unconcerned  tone, 

and  with  a  slight  tremor  in  his  voice.     He  stooped 

343 


THE    DUEL  243 

down  to"  the  ground  and  broke  o'ff  a  dry,  brown 
stalk  of  grass  from  the  previous  year.  Whilst 
absently  biting  the  stalk  of  grass,  he  stared 
obstinately  at  the  bright  buttons  on  Nikolaiev's  cape, 
and  he  saw  in  them  his  own  distorted  figure — a 
Ettle  narrow  head  upwards  ;  downwards  two  stunted 
legs,  and  between  them  an  abnormally  broad  big 
belly. 

"  I  shall  not  keep  you  long  waiting — only  a  few 
words,"  said  Nikolaiev.  He  spoke  with  a  strikingly 
pecuHar  softness  in  his  voice  and  with  the  forced 
poUteness  of  an  angry  and  hot-tempered  person  who 
has  made  up  his  mind  not  to  forget  himself.  But 
whilst  both  tried  to  shun  the  other's  glances,  the 
situation  became  every  moment  more  and  more  in- 
tolerable, so  that  Romashov  in  a  questioning  tone 
proposed — 

"  It  would  be  best  perhaps  if  we  went  ,on  our 
way  together?  " 

The  winding  steps,  worn  by  foot-passengers,  cut 
through  a  large  field  of  white  beet.  In  the  distance 
the  town,  with  its  white  houses  and  red-tiled 
roofs,  might  be  distinguished.  Both  officers  walked 
side  by  side,  yet  with  an  evident  effort  to  keep  as 
far  as  possible  from  each  other,  and  the  beets'  thick, 
luxuriant,  and  juicy  leaves  were  crushed  and  bruised 
beneath  their  feet.  Both  observed,  for  a  long  time, 
an  obstinate  silence.  Finally,  after  taking  a  deep 
breath,  Nikolaiev  managed,  with  a  visible  effort,  to 
blurt  out — 

"  First  of  all,  I  must  ask  you  a  question.  Have 
you  invariably  shown  my  wife,  Alexandra  Petrovna, 
due  regard  and  respect  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean,  Vladimir 
Yefimovich,"  replied  Romashov  ;  "  but  I,  too,  have 
a  question.;  .  ,  ." 


244  THE    DUEL 

"  Excuse  me,"  interrupted  Nikolaiev  in  a  sharp 
tone,  "  our  questions  ought,  to  avoid  confusion,  to  be 
put  in  turn — first  I,  then  you.  And  now  let  [us 
talk  openly  and  without  restraint.  Answer  me  this 
question  first.  Is  it  a  matter  of  supreme  indifference 
to  you  that  my  wife — that  her  good  name — has  been 
the  subject  of  scandal  and  slander  ?  No,  no,  don't 
interrupt  me.  You  can  hardly  deny,  I  suppose, 
that  on  my  part  you  have  never  experienced  any- 
thing but  goodwill,  and  that,  in  our  house,  you  have 
always  been  received  as  an  intimate  friend — nay, 
almost  as  a  relation." 

Romashov  made  a  false  step  and  stumbled  on 
the  loose  ground.  In  an  embarrassed  tone  he 
mumbled  in  reply— 

"  Be  assured,  Vladimir  Yefimovich,  that  I  shall 
always  feel  ;grateful  to  you  and  Alexandra  Petrovna." 

*'  Ah,  that's  not  the  question,"  said  Nikolaiev; 
angrily  interrupting  him.  "  I  am  not  soliciting  your 
gratitude.  I'll  only  tell  you  that  my  wife  has  been 
the  victim  of  dirty,  lying  scandal  in  which  " 
(Nikolaiev  almost  panted  out  the  words^  and  he 
wiped  his  face  with  his  handkerchief) — "well,  to 
put  it  shortly,  a  scandal  in  which  you,  too,  are  mixed 
up.  We  both — she  and  I — are  greeted  almost  every 
day  with  the  most  shameless  anonymous  letters. 
It  is  too  disgusting  to  me  to  put  [these  letters  before 
you,  but  you  shall  know  a  good  deal  of  their 
contents."  Nikolaiev  broke  off  his  speech,  but, 
in  the  next  minute,  he  continued  with  a  jstammer. 
'-By  all  the  devils — now  listen — they  say  that  you 
are  Alexandra  Petrovna's  lover,  and  that — how 
horrible  I — secret  meetings  daily  take  place  in  your 
room.  The  whole  regiment  is  talking  aboi^t  it. 
What  a  scandal  I  " 

He  bit  his  teeth  in  rage  and  spat. 


THE    DUEL  245 

"  I  know  who  has  written  these  letters,"  answered 
Romashov  in  a  lowered  voice,  and  turned  away. 

"Do  you?"  Nikolaiev  stopped  suddenly  and 
clutched  Romashov 's  arm  tightly.  It  was  quite 
pLiin  now  that  his  forced  calm  was  quite  exhausted. 
His  bestial  eyes  grew  bigger,  his  face  became 
blood-red,  foam  began  to  appear  at  the  corners 
of  his  mouth,  and,  as  he  bent  in  a  threatening! 
manner  towards  Romashov,  he  shrieked  madly — 

"  So  you  know  this,  and  you  even  dare  to  keep 
silence  1  Don't  you  understand  that  it  is  quite  plainly 
your  bounden  duty  to  slay  this  serpent  brood,  to  put 
a  stop  at  once  to  this  insidious  slander  ?  My — ^noble 
Don  Juan,  if  you  are  an  honourable  man  and 
not   a " 

Romashov  turned  pale,  and  he  eyed  Nikolaiev 
with  a  glance  of  hatred.  He  felt  that  moment 
that  his  hands  and  feet  were  as  heavy  ^.s  lead,  his 
brain  empty,  that  the  abnormal  and  violent  beating 
of  his  heart  had  sunk  still  lower  in  his  chest,  and 
that  his  whole  body  was  trembling. 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  lower  your  voice  when  you 
address  me,"  he  interrupted  him  by  saying  in  a 
hollow  voice.  "  Speak  civilly  ;  you  know  well 
enough  1  do  not  allow  any  one  to  shout  at  me." 

"I'm  not  shouting,"  repHed  Nikolaiev,  still  speak- 
ing in  a  rough  and  coarse,  though  somewhat 
subdued  tone.  "I'm  only  trying  to  make  you  see 
what  your  duty  is,  although  I  have  a  right  to 
demand  it.  Our  former  intimate  relations  give  me 
tliis  right.  If  Alexandra  Petrovna's  unblemished 
name  is  still  of  any  value  to  you,  then,  without  delay, 
put  a  stop  to  these  infamies." 

"  AH  right.  I  will  do  iall  I  can  as  regards  that," 
was  Romashov 's  dry  answer. 

He  turned  away  and  went  on.     In  the  middle  of 


246  THE    DUEL 

the  pathway,  Nikolaiev  caught  him  up  in  a  few 
steps. 

"  Please  wait  a  moment."  Nikolaiev's  voice 
sounded  more  gentle,  and  seemed  even  to  have  lost 
some  of  its  assertiveness  and  force.  "  I  submit, 
now  the  matter  has  at  last  been  talked  about,  we 
ought  also  to  cease  our  acquaintance.  What  do 
you  say  yourself?" 

"  Perhaps   so." 

"  You  must  yourself  have  noticed  the  kindness 
and  sympathy  with  which  we — ^that  is  to  say, 
Alexandra  Petrovna  and  I — received  you  at  our 
house.  But  if  I  should  now  be  forced  to — I  need 
say  no  more  ;  you  know  well  enough  how  scandal 
rankles  in  this  wretched  little  provincial  hole." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Romashov  gloomily.  ■**  I 
shall  cease  my  visits.  That,  I  take  it,  iwas  what 
you  wished.  I  may  tell  you,  moreover,  that  I  had 
already  made  up  my  mind  not  to  enter  your  door 
again.  A  few  days  ago  I  paid  Alexandra  Petrovna 
a  very  short  call  to  return  her  some  books,  but  you 
may  be  absolutely  certain  that  was  the  last  time." 

*'  Yes,  that  is  best  so  ;    I  think " 

Nikolaiev  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  and  was 
evidently  anything  but  easy  in  his  mind.  The  two 
officers  reached  the  road  at  this  moment.  There 
still  remained  some  three  hundred  yards  before  they 
came  to  the  town.  Without  uttering  another  word 
or  even  deigning  to  glance  at  each  other,  they  con- 
tinued on  their  way,  side  by  side.  Neither  of  them 
could  make  up  his  mind  either  to  stop  or  turn  back, 
and  the  situation  became  more  awkward  every 
minute. 

At  length  they  reached  the  furthest  houses  of  the 
town.  An  isvostschik  drove  up  and  was  at  -once 
hailed   by   Nikolaiev. 


THE    DUEL  247 

"That's  agreed  then,  Yuri  Alexievich."  Niko- 
laiev  uttered  these  words  in  a  vulgar,  unpleasant 
tone,  and  then  got  into  the  droshky.  "  Good-bye 
and   au   revoiry 

The  two  officers  did  not  shake  hands^  and  their 
salute  at  parting  was  very  curt.  Romashov  stood 
still  for  a  moment,  and  stared,  through  the  cloud  of 
dust,  at  the  hurrying  droshky  and  Nikolaiev's  strong, 
white  neck.  He  suddenly  felt  like  the  most  lonely 
and  forsaken  man  in  the  wide  world,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  he  had,  then  and  there,  despoiled  him- 
self of  all  that  had  hitherto  made  his  life  at  all 
worth  living. 

Slowly  he  made  his  way  home.  Hainan  met  him 
in  the  yard,  and  saluted  him,  from  a  distance,  with 
his  broad  grin.  His  face  beamed  with  benevolence 
and  delight  as  he  took  off  his  master's  cloak,  and, 
after  a  few  minutes,  he  began  his  usual  curious 
dance. 

"  Have  you  had  dinner  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  sym- 
pathetic, familiar  tone.  "  Oh,  you  have  not.  Then 
I'll  run  to  the  club  at  once  and  fetch  some  food. 
I'll   be    back   again    directly." 

"  Go  to  the  devil  !  "  screamed  Romashov,  "  and 
don't  dare  to  come  into  my  room.  I'm  not  at 
home  to  anybody — not  even  to  the  Tsar  himself." 

He  threw  himself  on  the  bed,  and  buried  his  face 
in  the  pillow.  His  teeth  closed  over  the  linen,  his 
eyes  burned,  and  he  felt  a  curious  stabbing  sensation 
in  his  throat.  He  wanted  to  cry.  With  eager 
longing  he  waited  for  the  first  hot,  bitter  tears  which 
would,  he  hoped,  afford  him  consolation  and  relief  in 
this  dark  hour  of  torture  and  misery.  Without  pity 
on  himself,  he  recalled  once  more  in  his  mind  the 
cruel  events  of  the  day  ;  he  purposely  magnified  and 
exaggerated    his    shame    and     ignominy,    and     he 


248  THE    DUEL 

regarded,  as  it  were,  from  outside,  his  own  wretched 
Ego  with  pity  and  contempt. 

Then  something  very  strange  happened.  It  did 
not  seem  to  Romashov  that  he  slept  or  even 
slumbered  for  an  instant,  but  simply  that  he  was 
for  some  moments  wholly  incapable  of  thinking. 
His  eyes  were  shut,  but,  all  of  a  sudden,  he  felt  he 
had  regained  full  consciousness,  and  was  suffering 
the  same  anguish  as  before.  It  was  completely 
dark  in  the  room  now.  He  looked  at  his  watch  and 
discovered  to  his  indescribable  astonishment  that  this 
mysterious  trance  had  lasted  more  than  five  hours. 

He  began  to  feel  hungry.  He  got  up,  put  on  his 
sabre,  threw  his  cloak  over  his  shoulder  and  started 
for  the  officers'  mess.  The  distance  there  from 
Romashov 's  door  was  scarcely  two  hundred  yards, 
and  besides,  he  always  made  use  of  a  short  cut 
through  unbuilt-upon  plots  and  fenced-in  kitchen- 
gardens,  etc. 

A  bright  gleam  issued  from  the  half-open  windows 
of  the  salle-d-manger,  billiard-room,  and  kitchen, 
but  the  dirty  backyard,  blocked  up  with  and  partly 
covered  by  all  sorts  of  rubbish,  was  in  thick  darkness. 
Every  moment  one  heard  loud  chatter  and  laughter, 
singing,  and  the  sharp  click  of  billiard  balls. 

Romashov  had  already  reached  the  courtyard  steps 
when  he  recognized  his  Captain's  angry  and  sneering 
voice.  Romashov  stopped  at  once,  and  cautiously 
glancing  into  one  of  the  open  windows  of  the  salle- 
d-manger,  he  caught  sight  of  Captain  Sliva's  humped 
back. 

He  was  stammering  :  "  All  my  c-c-company 
m-m-marches  as  one  man."  Sliva  marked  time 
by  raising  and  lowering  the  palm  of  his  hand. 
"  But  th-that  d-d-damned  fool  m-must  upset  every- 
thing."     Sliva    made   with    his   first   finger    several 


THE    DUEL  249 

clumsy  and  silly  motions  in  the  air.  "  But,  g-gentle- 
men,  1  6-said  to  him,  '  M-march  to  another  c-c-com- 
pany,  my  fl-fine  f-f-fellow,  or  s-still  b-better  m-march 
out  of  the  regiment.  Who  the  devil  will  have  s-such 
an  officer  ?  '  " 

Romashov  shut  his  eyes,  and  shrivelled  up  with 
shame  and  rage.  He  feared  that,  at  the  next  move- 
ment on  his  part,  all  the  officers  at  mess  would 
rush  to  the  window  and  discover  him.  For  one  or 
two  minutes  he  did  not  stir  ;  then  with  his  head 
hidden  in  his  cloak,  and  scarcely  venturing  to 
breathe,  he  stole  on  tip-toe  along  the  wall,  out 
through  the  gate  to  the  street,  the  moonlit  portion 
of  which  he  crossed  by  a  couple  of  brisk  jumps 
so  as  to  reach  the  deep  protecting  shadow  of  the 
high  hoarding  on  the  other  side. 

Romashov  sauntered  for  a  long  time  that  evening 
about  the  streets  of  the  town.  Often  he  did  not 
even  know  where  he  was.  Once  he  stopped  in  the 
shadow  right  under  Nikolaiev's  house,  the  green- 
painted  sheet-iron  roof  and  white  walls  of  which 
were  brilliantly  illumined  by  the  moon's  clear 
bright  rays.  Not  a  soul  was  in  the  street,  not  a 
sound  was  audible.  The  sharply  marked  outlines 
of  the  shadows  from  the  houses  opposite  divided  the 
street  into  two  halves. 

Behind  the  thick  dark-red  curtains  in  one  of  the 
rooms  at  the  Nikolaievs'  a  lamp  was  burning.  "  My 
beloved,"  whisj>ered  Romashov,  "  don't  you  feel  how 
near  I  am  to  you,  how  much  I  love  you?"  He 
pressed  his  hands  to  his  chest,  and  had  much 
difficulty  in  restraining  his  tears. 

Suddenly,  however,  he  got  the  idea  that,  in  spite 
of  the  distance  and  the  house's  thick  walls,  he  might 
possibly  make  Shurochka  notice  his  presence.  With 
closed    teeth    and    hands    so    tightly    clenched    that 


250  THE    DUEL 

the  nails  were  driven  into  the  flesh,  and  with  a 
sensation  as  if  icy-cold  ants  were  creeping  over  his 
body,  he  began  to  concentrate  all  his  will-power  to 
a  single  object.  "  Get  up  from  your  sofa.  Come 
to  the  window.  Draw  the  curtain.  Look,  look 
through  the  window  out  into  the  street.  Obey.  I 
command  you  ;    come  to  the  window  at  once." 

But  the  curtain  remained  motionless.  "  You  don't 
hear  me,  then,"  whispered  Romashov,  with  sorrow 
and  indignation  in  his  heart.  "  You  are  sitting  by 
the  lamp  beside  him,  calm,  indifTerent,  and  as  beau- 
tiful as  ever.  Oh,  my  God,  my  God,  how  wretched 
I  am  !  " 

He  sighed  deeply,  and  with  bowed  head  and 
crippled  with  weariness  he  continued  his  melancholy 
wandering . 

He  even  passed  Nasanski's  place,  but  it  was  dark 
there.  It  seemed  to  Romashov  as  if  a  white  spectre 
had  quickly  fluttered  past  one  of  the  house's  dark 
windows.  A  shudder  ran  through  him,  and  he  dared 
not  call  to  Nasanski. 

Some  days  later  Romashov  remembered  this  fan- 
tastic— nay,  idiotic — ramble  as  a  strange,  far-off 
dream  which,  nevertheless,  could  not  be  forgotten. 
He  had  even  been  in  the  Jewish  cemetery,  but 
how  he  got  there  he  could  not  tell  himself.  This 
silent  and  mysterious  burial-ground  lay  beyond  the 
town,  on  a  height,  and  was  surrounded  by  a  low 
white  wall.  From  the  luxuriant,  slumbering  grass 
arose  the  icy-cold  gravestones,  simple,  unadorned, 
like  each  other,  and  casting  behind  them  long, 
narrow  shadows.  And  over  all  this  gloomy  place 
reigned  the  grave,  solemn,  austere  note  of  solitude. 

After  this  he  saw  himself  in  another  quarter  of 
the  town,  but  this,  nevertheless,  was  perhaps  only  a 
dream.     He  stood  in  the  middle  of  a  long,  carefully 


THE    DUEL  251 

constructed  dam  that  divided  the  River  Bug  across 
its  entire  breadth.  The  dark-hued  water  ran  slowly 
and  lazily  away  beneath  his  feet,  and  now  and 
then  it,  as  it  were,  strove  to  render  a  well-known 
melody  by  its  capricious  splashing.  The  moon  was 
mirrored  on  the  lightly  curled  surface  of  the  river, 
like  an  infinitely  long,  trembling  pillar,  around  which 
you  might  fancy  you  saw  millions  of  fishes  playing 
in  the  water  whilst  they  slowly  withdrew  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  direction  of  the  distant  shore,  which 
lay  afar  off,  silent,  dark,  and  deserted.  Wherever 
he  might  be,  whether  in  or  out  of  the  town,  he  was 
followed  by  a  faint,  sweet,  aromatic  scent  from 
the  white  acacia  flower. 

Wonderful  thoughts  entered  his  brain  this  night — 
thoughts  sometimes  sad  and  melancholy,  at  other 
times  childishly  ridiculous.  Most  frequently  he 
reasoned  like  the  inexperienced  gambler  who  with 
the  frivolity  and  optimism  of  youth  pondered  upon 
the  fact  that  he  had  in  a  single  night  played  away 
all  he  possessed.  Thus  Romashov  tried  again  and 
again  to  delude  himself  into  believing  that  the 
wretched  events  of  the  past  day  had  absolutely  no 
importance — nay,  he  even  succeeded  in  resuscitating 
that  "  irresistible  "  Sub-lieutenant  Romashov  who 
so  ideally  conducts  his  parade  march  under  the 
General's  critical  eyes,  who  at  the  front  is  the 
object  of  the  General's  thanks  and  admiration,  and 
who  afterwards  drains  his  goblet  of  wine  among 
his  rejoicing  comrades.  But  the  next  moment  he 
hears  Federovski's  furious  threats,  his  chief's  in- 
sulting words,  Nikolaiev's  painful  questions  and  com- 
plaints, and  he  is  once  more  the  disgraced  and 
hopelessly   ruined    Sub-lieutenant    Romashov. 

An  irresistible  force  from  within  brought  him 
back  in  the  course  of  his  nocturnal   wandering  to 


2  52  THE    DUEL 

the  place  where  he  came  upon  Nikolaiev  after  the 
review.  Here  he  walked  about  meditating  suicide, 
though  by  no  means  seriously,  but  only — according 
to  his  ingrained  habit — to  pose  in  his  own  worthy 
person  as  a  martyr  and  hero. 

Haindn  comes  rushing  out  of  Romashov's  room. 
His  countenance  is  distorted  with  terror.  Pale 
and  trembling  all  over,  he  hurries  on  to  the  officers' 
salle-d-manger,  which  is  full  oif  people.  At  the  sight 
of  Hainan  all  spontaneously  get  up  from  their 
places.  '*  Your  Excellencies — the  lieutenant  has — 
shot  himself,"  Haindn  at  last  stammers  out.  General 
uproar  ;  dismay  is  to  be  read  in  the  faces  of  all. 
"Who  has  shot  himself?  Where?  What  lieu- 
tenant?" Finally  somebody  recognizes  Hainan. 
"  Gentlemen,  this  is  Hainan,  you  know — Lieutenant 
Romashov's  servant.  It's  the  Circassian,  you  know." 
All  hurry  to  Romashov's  house  ;  some  do  not  even 
give  themselves  time  to  put  on  their  caps. 
Romashov  is  discovered  lying  on  his  bed  ;  on  the 
floor  beside  him  is  a  large  pool  of  blood,  in  which 
is  found  a  revolver  of  the  Smith  and  Wesson  cele- 
brated make.  Through  a  crowd  of  officers,  who 
occupy  every  comer  of  the  little  room,  Znoiko, 
the  regimental  surgeon,  pushes  his  way  with  some 
difficulty.  "  Shot  in  the  temple,"  he  says  amidst 
a  general  hush.  "  All  is  over,  nothing  can  be  done." 
Some  one  among  the  bystanders  says  in  a  lowered 
voice,  "  Gentlemen,  uncover  your  heads  before  the 
majesty  of  Death  !  "  Many  make  the  sign  of  the 
Cross.  Viatkin  finds  on  the  table  a  note  on  which 
the  deceased  has  written  in  a  firm  hand  a  few  lines 
in  pencil.     Viatkin  reads  them  out — 

I  forgive  all.  I  die  of  my  own  free  will.  My  life  is  intolerable. 
Break  the  news  gently  to  my  mother. 

Georgi  Romashov. 


THE    DUEL  253 

All  gaze  at  one  another,  and  each  reads  on  his 
neighbour's  countenance  the  unuttered  thought  : 
"We  are  his  murderers,"  Softly  rocks  the  coffin 
covered  with  gold  brocade  and  carried  by  eight 
comrades.  The  entire  corps  of  officers  takes  part 
in  the  procession.  After  the  officers  comes  the  6th 
Company.  Captain  Sliva  frowns  gloomily.  Viat- 
kin's  kind  face  is  disfigured  by  tears,  but  now  in 
the  street  he  makes  an  effort  to  compose  himself. 
Lbov — oh,  heart  of  gold  ! — weeps  incessantly  without 
blushing  for  his  emotion.  Like  deep,  heavy,  sighs 
sound  the  hollow  strains  of  the  Dead  March.  There 
stand  all  the  ladies  of  the  regiment,  including 
Shurochka.  "  I  kissed  him,"  she  thinks  with  despair 
in  her  heart.  "  I  loved  him — I  might  have  saved 
him."  "  Too  late  1  "  thinks  Romashov,  with  a  bitter 
smile.  The  officers  accompanying  their  dead  com- 
rade to  the  grave  softly  converse  with  each  other. 
"  Ah,"  thinks  each  of  them  to  himself,  "  how  sorry 
I  am  for  him,  poor  fellow.  What  an  excellent 
comrade,  what  a  handsome  and  capable  officer  ! — 
Yes,  yes,  that  is  true,  but  we  did  not  appreciate 
him."  Loud  and  more  touching  sound  the  strains 
of  the  Dead  March.  It  is  Beethoven's  immortal 
music,  "  By  a  Hero's  Bier."  But  Romashov  is  lying 
in  his  coffin,  cold  and  still,  with  an  everlasting  smile 
on  his  lips.  On  his  chest  rests  a  modest  bouquet 
of  violets,  but  no  one  knows  from  where  they  came. 
He  has  forgiven  all — Shurochka,  Sliva,  Federovski, 
Shulgovich — all.  But  they  waste  no  tears.  He  is 
better  oflf  where  he  is  now  ;  he  was  too  pure,  too 
good  for  this  world. 

This  gloomy,  silent  monologue  forced  tears  from 
Romashov's  eyes,  but  he  did  not  wipe  them  away. 
It  was  so  delicious  to  imagine  himself  a  martyr, 
an  innocent  victim  to  tjie  malignity  of  mankind. 


254  THE    DUEL 

He  had  now  reached  the  white -beet  field,  the 
extensive  surface  of  which  had  an  almost  oppressive 
influence  on  Romashov.  He  climbed  on  to  a  little 
hillock  just  beside  the  ravine  in  which  the  railway 
ran. 

There  he  stood.  This  side  of  the  ravine  lay  in 
deep  shadow,  but  the  opposite  one  was  so  power- 
fully illuminated  that  one  might  fancy  it  possible 
to  distinguish  every  blade  of  grass.  The  ravine 
was  very  precipitous  near  the  place  where  Romashov 
was  now  standing,  and  at  the  bottom  of  it  the 
rails,  worn  bright  by  traffic,  shone.  Far  away  in 
the  field  on  the  other  si^e  of  the  i-aijway  the 
white,  pyramid-like  tents  could  be  seen  in  even 
rows . 

A  little  way  down  the  slope  of  the  ravine  was  a 
small  platform.  Romashov  glided  down  to  it  and 
sat  on  the  grass.  He  felt  nearly  sick  from  hunger 
and  weariness,  and  his  legs  shook  from  exhaus- 
tion. The  great  deserted  field  behind  him,  the 
air,  clear  and  transparent  in  spite  of  the  shades  of 
night,  the  dew-soaked  grass — all  was  sunk  in  a  deep, 
insidious,  luminous  silence,  the  intensity  of  which 
was  felt  by  Romashov  like  a  strong  buzzing  in 
his  ear.  Rarely  indeed  might  be  heard  from  a 
locomotive  manoeuvring  at  the  railway  station  a  shrill 
whistling  which,  in  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  night, 
brought  with  it  something  impetuous,  impatient,  and 
threatening. 

Romashov  laid  himself  on  his  back  in  the  grass. 
The  fleecy  white  clouds  right  above  him  stood 
motionless,  but  over  them  the  round  moon  glided 
rapidly  on  in  the  dark  firmament  which,  cold  and 
bare  and  boundless,  riveted  Romashov's  gaze.  All 
the  illimitable  space  between  earth  and  heaven  seemed 
to  him.  fraught  with  eternal  terror  and  eternal  long- 


THE    DUEL  255 

ing.  "  There  dwells — God,"  thought  Romashov, 
and  suddenly,  with  a  naive  outburst  of  sorrow,  anger, 
and  self  -  pity,  he  whispered  passionately  and 
bitterly — 

"  God,  why  hast  Thou  turned  Thy  countenance 
from  me  ?  What  offence  can  I — a  miserable  worm, 
a  grain  of  sand — have  committed  against  Thee  ? 
Thou  art  almighty,  Thou  art  good,  Thou  seest  and 
hearest  everything — why  hast  Thou  suffered  injustice 
and  malice  so   to   triumph   over   me?" 

But  instantly  afterwards  he  was  filled  with  alarm 
at  his  blasphemous  speech,  and  he  went  on  to  say 
in  fervour  and  anguish — 

"  No,  no  ;  forgive  and  forget  my  sinful  words.  I 
know  Thou  art  as  wise  as  Thou  art  merciful, 
and  I  shall  never  murmur  any  more.  Do  with 
me  what  seems  best  in  Thy  sight.  I  wiU  always 
submit  to  Thy  will  with  gratitude  and  a  meek 
heart." 

Simultaneously  with  these  pious  words  of  penance 
and  reformation  there  stirred  in  the  depth  of  his 
soul  a  secret  calculating  thought  that  his  solemnly 
promised  submission  to  our  Lord's  will  would  move 
the  All -seeing  God  suddenly  to  work,  on  his  behalf, 
a  miracle  whereby  all  the  bitter  sorrows  and  trials 
of  thie  day  would  appear  only  as  a  hideous 
dream. 

"  Where  are  you?  "  shrieked  just  then  a  loco- 
motive down  at  the  station  with  a  short,  angry, 
impatient  whistle.  Another  engine  at  once  answered, 
in  a  hollow,  threatening  tone,  "  I  am  coming." 

From  the  moonlit  crest  of  the  ravine's  opposite 
slope  a  soft  rustle  was  heard.  In  order  more  easily 
to  detect  the  cause,  Romashov  raised  his  head  from 
the  ground.  A  grey,  shapeless,  scarcely  human 
figure  was  sliding  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  ravine. 


2  56  THE    DUEL 

In  spite  of  the  bright  moonlight,  it  was  difficult  to 
distinguish  the  night-walker  in  the  high  grass,  and 
only  by  the  movements  of  his  shadow  was  it  possible 
for  any  one  to  follow  with  the  eye  his  course  down 
the  declivity. 

Now  he  was  crossing  the  railway -line.  "  Judging 
from  everything,"  guessed  Romashov,  "he  is  a 
soldier.  Anyhow  it's  a  human  being  ;  but  who 
can  it  be?     A  drunkard  or  a  sleep-walker?  " 

The  strange  figure  had  already  crossed  the  rail- 
way, stepped  into  the  shade,  and  was  climbing  toil- 
somely up  the  slope  on  which  Romashov  was.  The 
latter  now  saw  distinctly  that  the  wanderer  was  a 
soldier,  who,  however,  immediately  afterwards  dis- 
appeared from  Romashov's  sight.  Two  or  three 
minutes  elapsed  before  he  again  became  visible. 
A  round -clipped  head  without  a  cap  was  slowly 
lifted  in  Romashov's  direction,  who  now  recognized, 
without  difficulty,  the  left  wing  soldier  in  his  own 
half -company — the  unfortunate  Khliabnikov. 

Khliabnikov  went  on  his  way  bareheaded  and 
with  his  cap  in  his  hand,  looking  fixedly  before 
him.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  labouring  under 
the  influence  of  a  mysterious  inward  force.  He 
passed  so  near  Romashov  that  the  latter's  cloak 
almost  grazed  his  own.  The  moon's  keen  rays  were 
reflected  in  the  motionless  pupils  beneath  the  un- 
naturally wide-open  eyelids. 

"  Khliabnikov,  is  it  you?  "    cried  Romashov. 

"  A -ah  I  "  shouted  the  soldier,  who  stopped  im- 
mediately, and  began   to   shake   all  over. 

Romashov  jumped  up  from  the  ground.  He  saw 
before  him  a  disfigured  face,  as  pale  as  a  corpse's, 
with  severed,  bleeding  lips,  and  one  eye  almost 
closed  up  by  a  tremendous  bump  turning  blue.  In 
the  uncertain  evening  light  the  traces  of  the  dis- 


THE    DUEL  257 

gusting  violence  that  had  been  perpetrated  gained 
a  still  more  horrible  appearance.  And  as  Romas - 
hov  gazed  at  Khliabnikov,  his  thoughts  ran  thus  : 
"  Behold  the  man  who  with  me  brought  shame 
on  the  entire  regiment  to-day.  We  are  both  equally 
to  be  pitied." 

"  Where  were  you  going,  my  friend?  what's  the 
matter?  "  asked  Romashov,  in  his  tenderest  tone, 
and,  without  thinking,  he  put  both  his  hands  on 
the  soldier's  shoulders.  Khliabnikov  stared  at  him 
put  of  his  uninjured  eye  with  the  wild  look  of 
one  who  had  been  frightened  out  of  his  wits,  but 
he  turned  away  at  once.  His  bleeding  lips,  welded 
together,  slowly  opened  with  a  soft,  smacking  sound, 
but  all  he  could  utter  was  a  hoarse  rattle.  Romas- 
hov suddenly  experienced  an  intolerable  feeling  of 
sickness,  and  he  thought  he  felt  in  his  chest  and 
abdomen  certain  symptoms  which  usually  precede 
fainting. 

"  Has  some  one  beaten  you,  eh?  Tell  me  !  Come 
and  sit  down  beside  me."  He  pulled  the  soldier 
by  the  sleeve  of  his  coat  down  to  the  ground. 
Khliabnikov  obediently  collapsed,  like  a  dummy 
fallen  in  a  heap,  and  sank  noiselessly  down  on  the 
damp   grass   beside   Romashov. 

"  Where  were  you  going?  "  asked  the  latter. 
Khliabnikov  did  not  answer  a  word  where  he  sat, 
in  a  very  unnatural  and  uncomfortable  position,  with 
his  legs  straddling.  Romashov  noticed  that  his  head 
sank  slowly,  with  scarcely  perceptible  little  nods, 
on  his  chest.  Again  Romashov  heard  the  same 
short,  hoarse,  rattling  sound,  and  his  whole  soul 
was  filled  by  an  unspeakable  pity.  "  Do  I  under- 
stand that  you  wanted  to  run  away?  Put  on  your 
cap  and  listen,  Khliabnikov.  At  this  moment  I 
am  not  your  officer  or  superior,  but,  like  yourself, 

17 


2  58  THE    DUEL 

only  a  lojiely,  unlucky,  ruined  creature.  I  can  under- 
stand how  hard  and  burdensome  it  is  for  you  to 
live,  therefore  speak  to  me  frankly,  tell  me  all. 
Perhaps  you  meant  to  kill  yourself?  "  he  added 
in  a  hollow,  whispering  tone. 

A  gurgling  noise  was  again  heard  in  the  soldier's 
throat,  but  jiot  a  word  passed  his  lips.  At  the 
same  moment  Romashov  noticed  that  his  companion 
in  misfortune  was  shaking  from  head  to  foot  as  if 
from  a  chill,  and  he  was  himself  now  attacked  by 
an  unconquerable  terror ,  This  sleepless  night  passed 
in  feverish  excitement  ;  this  feeling  of  loneliness 
and  desertion  ;  the  moon's  unchangeable,  oppres- 
sive, cold  gleam  ;  the  ravine's  black  depth  beneath 
his  feet  ;  the  dumb,  cruelly  maltreated  soldier  at 
his  side — all  this  seemed  to  him  like  a  mad,  in- 
sufferable dream — one  of  those  dreams  that  are  wont 
to  herald  the  approach  of  death.  But  directly  after- 
wards he  was  again  seized  by  the  same  infinite 
pity  for  the  unfortunate  victim  beside  him,  and  it 
was  clear  to  him  at  once  how  petty  and  insignificant 
was  his  own  sorrow  in  comparison  with  Khliabnikov's 
cruel  fate.  With  sincere  tenderness  he  threw  his 
arm  round  the  soldier's  neck,  drew  him  forcibly 
to  him,  and  said,  with  the  warmth  that  belongs  to 
conviction — 

"  Khliabnikov,  you  find  life  unsupportable,  but, 
my  friend,  believe  me,  even  I  am  an  exceedingly 
unhappy  man.  The  whole  world  wherein  I  live 
is  to  me  a  puzzle.  Everything  is  so  savage,  cruel, 
and  senseless.  However,  one  must  be  patient,  one 
must  learn  to  sufifer." 

Khliabnikov's  bowed  head  fell  suddenly  on 
Romashov's  knee,  which  he  embraced  with  both 
arms.    All  his  being  shook  with  suppressed  weeping. 

-'  I   can't  stand  any   more,"   he   uttered  at  last. 


THE    DUEL  259 

"I'll  bear  it  no  longer.  Oh,  my  God  !  They  beat 
me,  they  mock  me  ;  the  sergeants  shriek  for 
schnapps  and  money.  Where  is  a  poor  devil  like 
me  to  get  money?  And  then  they  beat  me  again 
— me,  who  have  suffered  from  childhood  from  an 
incurable  pain — a  severe  rupture." 

Romashov  bent  down  over  his  head,  which  shook 
convulsively  backwards  and  forwards  against  Romas - 
hov's  knee.  He  perceived  the  smell  of  the  soldier's 
dirty,  unhealthy  body,  and  the  rank  stench  of  his 
cloak,  which  ;also  served  as  a  counterpane  during 
the  cold  nights  in  his  tent.  An  infinite  sorrow 
for  and  disgust  at  himself,  his  profession,  and  the 
whole  world  harrowed  the  young  officer's  soul. 
With  overflowing  heart  he  rested  his  forehead  against 
Khliabnikov's  burning  head  and  stubbly  hair,  at 
the   same   time   whispering   scarcely   audibly — 

•'  My  brother  !  " 

Khliabnikov  grasped  Romashov 's  hand,  on  which 
a  few  warm  tears  fell.  Romashov  even  felt  two 
cold,  clammy  lips  kissing  his  fingers,  but  he  did 
not  withdraw  his  hand,  and  he  spoke  simple,  calm- 
ing, touching  words,  just  as  when  one  talks  to  a 
weeping,  injured  child. 

Then  he  escorted  Khliabnikov  back  to  the  camp, 
and  then  sent  for  Shapovalenko,  the  sergeant  on 
duty  that  day  in  the  6th  Company.  The  latter 
came  out  hurriedly,  clad  in  an  obviously  imperfect 
costume,  peered  for  a  while  with  a  pair  of  drowsy 
eyes,  scratched  himself  both  back  and  front  with  an 
earnestness  that  was  probably  more  than  justified. 
After  several  tremendous  yawns  he  became  gradu- 
ally awake  to  the  situation. 

Romashov  ordered  him  to  release  Khliabnikov 
from  any  duties  he  might  happen  to  have  just 
then. 


26o  THE    DUEL' 

"  Your  Honour,  this  may  perhaps  be  a  little 
premature." 

"  No  arguing  1  "  shrieked  Romashov  in  a  furious 
tone.  "  Tell  the  Captain  to-morrow  that  you  acted 
on  my  instructions."  Then  turning  to  Khliabnikov, 
he  added  :  "  We  meet  to-morrow,  you  know,  at 
my  house,"  and  received  in  reply  a  long,  shy,  grate- 
ful look. 

Romashov  slowly  turned  his  steps  homewards 
along  the  camp.  A  few  words  caught  from  a 
whispered  conversation  in  one  of  the  tents  caused 
him  to  stop  and  listen  :  "  You  see,  comrades," 
says  a  subdued  voice,  "  that  this  same  devil  sends 
the  soldier  his  very  chief  magician.  When  the 
magician  catches  3ight  of  the  soldier,  he  roars  at 
him  like  this  :  '  What's  a  soldier  to  me?  I'll  eat 
him  1  '  '  No,'  replies  the  soldier,  '  you  can't  do  that, 
old  chap,  for  I  myself  am  a  magician '  " 

Romashov  soon  reached  the  ravine  again.  Once 
more  that  indescribable  feeling  of  disgust  at  life 
and  contempt  of  the  inanity  and  senselessness  of 
the  work  of  creation.  Whilst  descending  the  de- 
clivity he  stopped  suddenly  and  raised  his  eyes  to 
heaven.  Again  he  was  met  by  the  same  infinite, 
icy-cold  firmament  ;  again  he  experienced  the  same 
longing,  mingled  with  fear  and  anguish,  and  almost 
unconsciously  he  raised  his  fists  threateningly  against 
heaven,  and  in  the  voice  of  a  man  foaming  with 
rage,  in  words  of  unspeakable  blasphemy,  challenged 
his  Maker's  omnipotence,  and  dared  Him,  in  proof 
of  it,  to  breaJc  off  his  arms  and  legs. 

Romashov,  deliberately  and  with  his  eyes  shut, 
threw  himself  down  the  precipice,  and  alighted  un- 
scathed on  the  railway  bank.  With  two  leaps  he 
gained  the  opposite  slope,  the  top  of  which  he 
reached    without    stopping    or   taking"    breath.      His 


THE    DUEL  261 

nostrils  were  dilated,  and  his  chest  heaved 
violently  under  convulsive  efforts  to  regain  his 
breath,  but  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  there  blazed 
a  proud,  triumphant  feeling  of  malicious  joy  and 
defiance. 


XVI 

There  was  a  lesson  on  military  drill  going  on  in 
the  school  of  recruits.  In  a  close  room,  on  benches 
arranged  in  a  square,  sat  the  soldiers  of  the  3rd 
platoon  facing  one  another.  In  the  middle  of  this 
square  Corporal  Syeroshtan  walked  to  and  fro.  Close 
by,  walking  backwards  and  forwards  in  the  centre 
of  a  similar  square,  was  the  non-commisioned  officer 
Shapovalenko . 

"  Bondarenko  !  "  cried  Syeroshtan  in  a  pierc- 
ing voice. 

Bondarenko  brought  his  feet  down  on  the  floor 
with  a  bang,  and  jumped  up  just  like  a  jack-in- 
the-box. 

"  Now,  Bondarenko,  suppose  that  you  were  stand- 
ing at  arms,  and  the  commander  came  to  you  and 
asked  :  '  What  is  that  in  your  hands,  Bondarenko  ?  ' 
What   ought   you   to   answer?" 

"  A    gun,"    replied    Bondarenko    after    reflection. 

"  Wrong  I  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  would 
call  it  a  gim?  At  home  you  might  call  it  a  gun, 
certainly,  but  in  the  service  it  is  called  simply  a 
sharp -shooting  infantry  rifle  of  small  calibre,  maker 
Berdan,  number  two,  with  a  sliding  bolt.  Repeat 
that  now,  you  son  of  a !  " 

Bondarenko  gabbled  over  the  words,  which  he 
evidently   knew   by   heart. 

"  Sit  down  !  "    commanded  Syeroshtdn  graciously. 

"And  for  what   purpose   is   the   rifle   given   you?" 

262 


THE    DUEL  263 

His  stern  gaze  wandered  round  the  class. 
"  Shevchuk  I    you  answer  this  question." 

Shevchuk  stood  up  with  a  morose  expression,  and 
answered  in  a  deep  bass  voice,  speaking  through 
his  nose,  and  very  slowly,  and  in  detached  phrases, 
as  if  there  were  a  full  stop  after  each  : 

"It  is  given  to  me  in  order  that  in  time  of 
peace  I  may  practise  with  it.  But  in  time  of  war 
that  I  may  protect  my  Emperor  and  my  country 
from  enemies."  He  stopp>ed,  scratched  his  nose, 
and  added  obscurely  :  "  Whether  they  be  external 
or  internal." 

"  Right  !  You  know  that  very  well,  Shevchuk, 
only  you  mumble.  Sit  down.  And  now,  Ovechkin, 
tell  me,  whom   do   we  call  external  enemies?" 

Ovechkin,  a  sprightly  soldier  from  Orlov,  answered 
rapidly  and  with  great  animation,  spluttering  with 
excitement  : 

"  External  enemies  are  all  those  nations  with 
whom  we  might  go  to  war  ;  the  French,  Germans, 
Italians,  Turks,  Europeans " 

"  Wait,"  Syeroshtan  cut  him  short.  "  All  that 
is  not  in  the  text.  Sit  down.  And  now  tell  me — 
Arkhipov  !     Who  are  our  internal  enemies?  " 

He  uttered  the  last  two  words  very  loudly,  as  if 
to  emphasize  them,  and  threw  a  meaning  glance 
at  the  volimteer,   Markouson. 

The  clumsy,  pock-marked  Arkhipov  was  obsti- 
nately silent,  and  stood  gazing  out  of  the  window. 
Outside  the  service  he  was  an  active,  intelligent, 
clever  fellow  ;  but  in  class  he  behaved  like  an 
imbecile.  Obviously  the  trouble  lay  in  the  fact 
that  his  healthy  mind,  accustomed  to  observe  and 
think  about  the  simple,  straightforward  aflfairs  of 
village  life,  was  quite  unable  to  grasp  the  con- 
nection between  hypothetical  problems  and  real  life. 


264  THE    DUEL 

For  this  reason  he  could  not  understand  nor  learn 
the  simplest  things,  to  the  great  astonishment  and 
indignation   of   his   platoon    commander. 

"  We -11  !  How  much  longer  am  I  to  wait  while 
you  get  ready  to  answer?  "  cried  Syeroshtan,  begin- 
ing  to  get  angry. 

"  Internal  enemies — enemies " 

"You  don't  know  it?"  cried  Syeroshtdn  in  a 
threatening  tone,  and  he  would  have  fallen  upon 
Arkhipov,  but,  glancing  with  a  side  glance  at  the 
officer,  he  contented  himself  with  shaking  his  head 
and  rolling  his  eyes  terribly.  "  Well,  listen.  In- 
ternal enemies  are  those   who   resist  the  law  ;     for 

example,    who    shall    we ?  "       He    glanced    at 

Ovechkin's  sharp  eyes.      "  You  tell  us,  Ovechkin." 

Ovechkin  jumped  up  and  cried  joyfully  : 

"  Such  as  rebels,  students,  horse -stealers,  Jews 
and  Poles. 

Shapovalenko  was  occupied  with  his  platoon  close 
by.  Pacing  up  and  down  between  the  benches, 
he  asked  questions  from  the  "  Soldier's  Manual," 
which  he  held  in  his  hand. 

*'  Soltuis,   what  is  a   sentry?  " 

Soltuis,  a  Lithuanian,  cried,  opening  and  shutting 
his  eyes  rapidly  in  the  effort  to  think  :  "A  sentry 
must  be  incorruptible." 

"Well,   and   what   else?" 

"  A  sentry  is  a  soldier  placed  at  a  certain  post 
with  a  rifle  in  his  hand." 

"  Right.  I  see,  Soltuis,  that  you  are  beginning 
to  try.     And  why  is  he  placed  there,  Pakhorukov?  " 

"  That  he  may  neither  sleep,  nor  doze,  nor  smoke, 
nor  accept  bribes." 

"  And   the  pass -word?  " 

"  And  that  he  may  give  the  pass -word  to  the 
officers  who  pass  in  and  out." 


THE    DUEL  265 

•'  Right.     Sit  down." 

Shapovalenko  had  noticed  some  time  ago  the 
ironical  smile  on  the  face  of  the  volunteer  Fokin, 
and  for  this   reason   he   cried   with   extra   severity  : 

"  Now,  volunteer  I  But  is  that  the  way  to  stand? 
When  your  chief  asks  a  question  you  should  stand 
as  straight  as  a  ramrod.  What  do  you  mean  by 
the   Colours?  " 

The  volunteer  Fokin,  with  a  University  badge 
on  his  breast,  stood  in  front  of  the  non-commissioned 
officer  in  a  respectful  attitude,  but  his  young,  grey 
eyes  sparkled  with  laughter. 

"  By  the  Colours  is  meant  the  sacred  Standard 
of  War  under  which " 

"  Wrong  !  "  broke  in  Shapovalenko  angrily, 
bringing  the  Manual  down  hard  on  the  palm 
of  his  hand. 

"  No,  that  is  quite  right,"  replied  Fokin  calmly. 

*'  Wh-a-at  ?  If  your  chief  says  it  is  wrong,  it 
is   wrong," 

"  Look  in  the  book   and   see  for  yourself." 

"  I  am  your  officer,  and  as  such  I  must  know 
better  than  you.  A  fine  thing,  indeed  !  Perhaps 
you  think  that  1  want  to  enter  a  cadet  school  for 
instruction  ?  What  do  you  know  about  anything  ? 
What's  a  St-a-a-n-dard?  Ste-ndard  !  There's  no 
such  word  as  Sta-a-andard.  The  sacred  Stendard 
of  War " 

"  Don't  quarrel  now,  Shapovalenko,"  put  in 
Romashov.      "  Get  on   with    the   lesson." 

"  Very  good,  your  Honour  !  "  drawled  Shapo- 
valenko. "  Only  allow  me  to  inform  your  Honour 
that  all  these  volunteers  are  far  too  clever." 

"  That  will  do,  that  will  do  !  get  on  with  the 
lesson." 

"  Very  good,  your  Honour — Khliabnikov  !  Who 
is  the  commander  of  this  corps?  " 


266  THE    DUEL 

Khliabnikov  stared  with  wild  eyes  at  the  "  non- 
com."  All  the  sound  which  came  from  his  open 
mouth  was  a  croak,  which  might  have  been  made 
by  a  hoarse  crow. 

"  Answer  I  "    cried  Shapovalenko  furiously. 

"  His " 

"  WeU  !      '  His.'      What    else?  " 

Romashov,  who  had  just  turned  away,  heard  him 
mutter  in  a  low  voice  :  "  You  wait  I  Won't  I  just 
give  you  a  stroking  down  after  the  lesson." 
But  directly  Romashov  turned  back  to  him  he 
said  loudly  and  kindly  :  "  His  Excellency — well, 
how   does  it   go   on,   Khliabnikov  ?  ' ' 

"  His — infantry — lieutenant,"  muttered  Khliabni- 
kov in  a  broken,  terrified  voice. 

*'  A-a-a  !  "  cried  Shapovalenko,  grinding  his 
teeth.  "  Whatever  shall  we  do  with  you,  Khliab- 
nikov ?  1  |a!m  really  afraid  to  think  what  will  become 
of  you  ;  you  are  just  like  a  camel,  except  that 
you  can't  even  make  yourself  heard.  You  don't 
make  the  slightest  attempt  to  learn.  Stand  there 
until  the  end  of  the  lesson,  and  after  dinner  come 
to  me,  and  I'll  take  you  alone.  Grechenko  !  Who 
is  the  commander  of  this  corps?" 

"  As  it  is  to-day,  so  it  will  be  to-morrow,  and 
so  on  to  the  end  of  my  life,"  thought  Romashov, 
as  he  passed  from  platoon  to  platoon.  "  Shall  I 
throw  it  all  up  ?  Shall  I  leave  the  service  ?  I 
don't  know  what  to   do  I  " 

After  the  instruction  the  men  were  kept  busy 
in  the  yard,  which  was  arranged  as  a  shooting 
range.  While  one  party  practised  shooting  in  a 
looking-glass,  another  learned  to  hit  a  target  with 
a  shot,  and  a  third  learned  rifle -shooting.  Ensign 
Lbov's  clear,  animated  tenor  voice  giving  orders 
to  the  2nd  platoon  could  be  heard  at  a  distance. 


THE    DUEL  267 

"  Right  —  turn  —  firing  company  —  one,  two  !  " 
"  Compan-y  !  "  he  dragged  out  the  last  syllable, 
paused,  and  then,  abruptly  :     "  Fire  1  " 

There  was  a  loud  report,  and  Lbov  in  his  joyful, 
inspiring  voice,  cried  again  : 

"  Present  !  " 

Sliva  went  from  platoon  to  platoon,  stooping  and 
walking  slowly,  finding  fault  and  making  coarse 
remarks  : 

"  Is  that  the  way  to  hold  a  rifle?  Any  one 
would  think  you  were  a  deacon  holding  a  candle  ! 
What  are  you  keeping  your  mouth  open  for, 
Kartashov?  Do  you  want  some  porridge?  Sergeant- 
major,  put  Kartashov  under  arms  for  an  hour  after 
drill.  How  do  you  fold  up  a  cloak,  Vedenyeev? 
Look  at  it,  you  lazy  fellow  !  " 

After  the  shooting  practice  the  men  piled  their 
rifles  and  threw  themselves  down  beside  them  on 
the  young  spring  grass,  already  trampled  on  by 
the  soldiers'  boots.  It  was  a  warm,  clear  day.  The 
air  smelled  of  the  leaves  of  young  poplar  trees,  of 
which  there  were  two  rows  planted  round  the  cause- 
way.     Viatkin  again   approached   Romashov  : 

"  Dreaming  again,  Yuri  Alekseich,"  he  said. 
*'  What  is  the  use  of  it  ?  As  soon  as  the  drill  is 
over  we  wUl  go  to  the  club,  and  after  a  drink  or 
two  you  will  be  all  right." 

"I  am  bored,  my  dear  Pavel  Pavlich,"  said 
Romashov  wearily. 

"  It  is  not  very  cheerful,  I  admit,"  said  Viatkin. 
"  But  how  can  it  be  helped?  The  men  must  be 
taught  their  business,  or  what  would  happen  if  war 
suddenly  broke  out?  " 

"  What  is  war  after  all?  "    said  Romashov  sadly, 

"  and  why ?    Perhaps  it  is  nothing  more  than  a 

mistake  made  by  all,  a  universal  error,  a  madness. 


268  THE    DUEL 

Do    you    mean    to    tell    me    that    it    is    natural    to 
kill?" 

"  Oh,  the  devil  take  your  philosophy  !  If  the 
Germans  were  to  attack  us  suddenly,  who  would 
defend  Russia?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,  so  I  can't  talk  about 
it,"  said  Romashov  shortly.  "  I  know  nothing, 
and  yet,  take " 

"  For  my  part,"  said  V^iatkin,  "  I  think  that 
if  those  are  your  ideas  about  war,  it  would  be 
better  for  you  to  be  out  of  the  service.  We  are 
not  supposed  to  think  in  our  profession.  The  only 
question  is,  What  could  we  do  if  we  were  not  in 
the  service  ?  What  use  should  we  be  anywhere 
when  we  know  nothing  but  '  Left  !  Right  !  *  We  can 
die,  of  course,  that  is  true.  And  die  we  should, 
as  soon  as  we  began  to  be  in  want,  for  food  is 
not  provided  gratis,  you  know.  And  so,  Mr. 
Philosopher,  come  to  the  club  with  me  after  drill." 

"  Very  well,"  agreed  Romashov  indifferently.  "  If 
you  ask  me,  I  should  say  that  it's  a  hog's  life 
that  we  are  leading  ;  but,  as  you  say,  if  one  thinks 
so  it  is  better  to  leave  the  service  altogether." 

While  they  talked  they  v/alked  up  and  down, 
and  at  length  halted  close  to  the  4th  platoon.  The 
soldiers  were  sitting  or  lying  around  their  piled 
arms  ;  some  of  them  were  eating  bread,  for  soldiers 
eat  bread  all  day  long,  and  under  all  circumstances, 
at  reviews,  at  halting -places  in  the  manoeuvres,  in 
church  before  confession,  and  even  before  physical 
punishment . 

Romashov  heard  a  quietly  provocative  voice  say  : 

"  Khliabnikov  !      I   say,    Khiiabnikov  !" 

"Yes?"  said  Khliabnikov  gruffly,  through  his 
nose. 

"  What  do  you  do  at  home?  " 


THE    DUEL  269 

"  Work,"   answered   the   other   sleepily. 

**  What  kind  of   work,   you   blockhead?" 

"  All  kinds — ploughing,  cattle  driving." 

Romashov  glanced  at  the  grey,  pitiful  face  of 
Khliabnikov,  and  again  was  seized  by  an  uneasy 
pain  at  his  heart. 

"  Rifle  practice  I  "  cried  Sliva  from  the  centre. 
"  Officers    to   their    places." 

They  unpiled  their  arms  and  took  their  places 
with  much  bustle. 

"  Close  up  !  "  commanded  Sliva.  "  Stand  at 
ease  I  " 

And  then,  coming  nearer  to  the  company,  he 
shouted  : 

"  Manual  exercise — count  aloud.     On  guard  I  " 

"  One  1  "  cried  the  soldiers,  and  held  their  guns 
aloft. 

Sliva  went  amongst  them  in  a  leisurely  manner, 
making  abrupt  remarks  :  "  Bayonets  higher. — Hold 
the  butt -end  to  you." 

Then  he  again  took  up  his  position  in  front  of 
the  company  and  gave   the   order  :     "  Two  !  " 

"  Two  !  "    cried  the  soldiers. 

And  once  more  Sliva  went  amongst  them  to  see 
if  they  were  doing  the  exercises  correctly. 

After  the  manual  exercise  by  division  they  had 
exercise  by  company,  then  turnings,  form  fours, 
fixing  and  unfixing  bayonets  and  other  forms. 
Romashov  performed  like  an  automaton  all  that  was 
required  of  him,  but  all  the  time  the  words  so  care- 
lessly uttered  by  Viatkin  were  running  through  his 
mind  :  "  If  I  thought  that,  I  v.-ould  not  stay  in 
the  service."  And  all  the  arts  of  war — the  skilful 
evolutions,  the  cleverness  of  the  rifle  exercise,  and 
all  those  tactics  and  fortifications  on  which  he  had 
wasted  nine   of   the   best   years   of  his   life,   which 


270  THE    DUEL 

would  fill  the  rest  of  his  life,  and  which  not  so  very 
long  ago  had  seemed  to  him  important  and  so  full 
of  wisdom — all  had  suddenly  become  deadly  dull, 
unnatural,  inventions  without  value,  a  universal  self- 
deceit   resembling  an   absurd   dream. 

When  the  drill  was  finished  he  and  Viatkin  went 
to  the  club  and  drank  a  lot  of  vodka  together, 
Romashov,  hardly  knowing  what  he  was  doing, 
kissed  Viatkin  and  wept  hysterically  on  his  shoulder, 
complained  of  his  empty,  miserable  life,  and  also 
that  no  one  understood  him,  also  that  a  certain 
woman  did  not  love  him — who  she  was  no  one  should 
ever  know.  As  for  Viatkin,  he  drank  glass  after 
glass,  only  saying  from  time  to  time  with  con- 
temptuous   pity  : 

"  The  worst  of  you  is,  Romashov,  that  you  can't 
drink.  You  take  one  glass  and  you  are  all  over 
the  place," 

Then  suddenly  he  struck  his  fist  on  the  table 
threateningly,  and  cried  :  "If  they  want  us  to  die, 
we'U    die  !  " 

"  We'll  die,"  answered  Romashov  pitifully. 
"What  is  dying?  A  mere  trifle!  Oh,  how  my 
heart  aches  I  " 

Romashov  did  not  remember  going  home  and 
getting  into  bed.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was 
floating  on  a  thick  blue  cloud,  upon  which  were 
scattered  milliards  and  milliards  of  microscopic 
diamonds.  His  head  seemed  swollen  to  a  tremendous 
size,  and  a  pitiless  voice  was  calling  out  in  a  tone 
which  made  him  feel  sick  : 

"  One  !     Two  I  " 


XVII 

From  this  night  Romashov  underwent  a  profound 
inward  change.  He  cut  himself  entirely  adrift  from 
the  company  of  his  comrades,  usually  took  his  dinner 
at  home,  never  frequented  the  soirees  dansantes  of 
his  regiment,  and  ceased  to  indulge  in  drink.  He 
had  grown  older,  riper,  and  more  serious,  and  he 
noticed  this  himself  in  the  calm  resignation  with 
which  he  bore  the  trials  and  adversities  of  ]ife. 
Often,  too,  he  recalled  to  mind  the  assertion  he  had 
long  ago  picked  up  from  books  or  in  the  way  of 
conversation,  that  human  life  is  made  up  of  periods 
of  seven  years,  and  that,  in  the  course  of  each 
period,  not  only  the  organism,  but  also  the  character, 
views  taken  of  Ufe,  and  inclinations  are  completely 
renewed.  And  it  was  not  so  long  since  Romashov 
had    completed    his   twenty-first    year. 

The  soldier  Khliabnikov  used  to  visit  him,  but  at 
first,  however,  only  after  being  again  urged  to  do 
so.  Afterwards  his  visits  became  more  and  more 
frequent.  During  the  first  period  he  put  one  in 
mind  of  a  starved  and  whipped  dog  which  flinches 
from  the  hand  held  out  caressingly  ;  but  Romashov's 
kindness  and  goodness  gradually  drove  away  his  fear 
and  embarrassment  and  restored  to  him  the  faculty 
of  gratitude  and  confidence.  With  something  akin 
to  remorse  and  shame,  Romashov  learned  more  of 
Khliabnikov's  sad  conditions  of  life  and  family  cir- 
cumstances.   At  home  lived  his  mother,  his  father — b. 

271 


272  THE    DUEL 

confirmed  drunkard — a  semi -idiotic  brother,  and  four 
young  sisters.  The  family's  little  plot  of  land  had 
been  confiscated,  contrary  to  all  law  and  justice,  by 
the  commune,  which  afterwards  was  kind  enough 
to  shelter  the  poor  wretches  in  a  miserable  hut. 
The  elder  members  were  journeymen  employed  by 
strange  and  occasional  employers,  the  younger  ones 
went  out  to  beg.  Khliabnikov  could,  therefore,  not 
reckon  on  any  support  from  his  people,  and,  on 
account  of  his  delicate  health,  was  not  in  a  position  to 
undertake  any  remunerative  manual  labour  in  such 
leisure  as  the  service  left  him.  But  the  soldier's 
life  is  unendurable  without  money.  He  receives 
twenty-two  and  a  half  copecks  a  month  from  the 
State,  and  out  of  this  he  must  defray  the  costs  of  tea, 
sugar,  soap,  etc.,  and  in  addition,  the  indispensable 
presents  to  greedy  and  unconscionable  sergeants. 
Woe  betide  the  soldier  who  cannot,  by  presents, 
money,  or  schnapps,  bribe  his  torturers.  He  becomes 
a  helpless  victim  to  insult  and  gross  maltreatment, 
and  all  the  heavy  and  disgusting  work  in  the  camp 
falls  unmercifully  to  his  lot. 

With  surprise,  terror,  and  pain  Romashov  realized 
that  Fate  had  daily  united  him  by  the  closest  ties 
with  hundreds  of  these  grey  "  Khliabnikovs,"  with 
those  defenceless  victims  of  their  own  ignorance 
and  brutal  coarseness,  of  the  officers'  heartless  indif- 
ference and  cruelty,  of  a  humiliating,  systematic 
slavery  ;  but  the  most  horrible  of  all,  however,  was 
the  fact  that  not  a  single  officer — and,  up  to  that 
day,  not  even  Romashov  himself — saw  in  these 
stereotyped  crowds  of  slaves  anything  beyond 
mechanical  quantities  bracketed  under  the  name  of 
companies,  battalions,  regiments,   etc. 

Romashov  did  his  best  to  procure  Khliabnikov, 
now  and  then',  a  little  income.     Of  course  it  was  not 


THE    DUEL  273 

very  long  before  both  this  and  other  unaccustomed 
marks  of  humanity  on  the  part  of  an  officer  became 
noticed  in  the  company.  Romashov  noticed  very 
frequently  how  the  "  non-coms."  in  his  presence 
acted  towards  Khliabnikov  with  comical,  exaggerated 
politeness  in  manner  and  tone.  That  even  Captain 
SUva  had  got  scent  of  Romashov 's  changed  attitude 
as  regards  the  treatment  of  soldiers  was  palpable 
enough,  and  more  than  once,  from  remarks  made 
by  him — 

"  D-d-damned  Liberals — come  here  to  ruin  the 
people — ought  to  be  thrashed — f-f -flayed  alive,  every 
man  Jack  of  'em  1  " 

Now,  as  Romashov  more  and  more  abandoned 
himself  to  loneliness  and  self-examination,  those 
curious,  entangling  contemplations,  which  a  month 
previously,  at  the  time  of  his  arrest,  had  such  a 
disturbing  effect  on  him,  now  assailed  him  with 
even  greater  frequency.  These  generally  happened 
after  his  duties  for  the  day  had  been  done,  when  he 
strolled  silently  backwards  and  forwards,  beneath  the 
thick,  slumbering  foliage  of  the  trees  near  his 
dwelling,  and  when,  lonely  and  oppressed,  he  listened 
to  the  solemn  bass  of  the  booming  beetles  or,  with 
dreamy  eyes,  gazed  at  the  roseate  and  rapidly 
darkening  sky. 

This  new  life  of  his  surprised  him  by  the  richness 
of  its  shifting  impression.  In  days  gone  by  he 
would  never  have  even  dared  to  entertain  a  notion 
of  what  pure  and  calm  joy,  what  potency  and  secret 
depths,  lie  hidden  in  something  so  simple  and 
common  as  human  thought. 

Romashov  had  already  determined  irrevocably  not 
to  remain  on  active  service,  but  to  join  the  reserves 
as  soon  as  his  period  of  service  as  an  officer  by 
examination  had  expired,  but  he  did  not  yet  know 

18 


274  THE    DUEL 

where  he  would  find  suitable  employment  and  an 
income  on  which  he  might  exist.  He  went  over  in 
his  mind  all  possible  occupations  —  post-office, 
customs,  telegraph  service,  railway,  etc.,  etc.  He 
pondered  on  whether  he  might  seek  the  post  ,of 
estate-manager,  or  enter  the  Civil  Service.  And 
now  he  was  astounded  at  the  thought  of  all  the 
innumerable  different  trades  and  professions  that 
exist  in  the  world.  "  How  have  they  arisen," 
thought  he,  "  all  these  absurd,  comical,  wonderful 
and  more  or  less  repulsive  occupations — prison- 
warders,  acrobats,  chiropodists,  professors,  actors, 
dog-barbers,  policemen,  jugglers,  prostitutes,  bath- 
men,  veterinary  surgeons,  grave-diggers,  beadles, 
etc.,  etc?  And  perhaps  there's  not  a  human 
invention  or  caprice,  however  idiotic,  paradoxical, 
barbarous,  and  immoral  it  may  be,  that  does  not 
at  once  find  ready  arid  willing  hands  to  bring  it 
to   completion   and   realization." 

So,  too,  in  meditating  more  profoundly,  it  struck 
him  what  a  countless  number  of  "  intelligent  "  means 
of  bread-winning  there  are,  which  are  all  based  on 
mistrust^  of  the  honour  and  morality  of  mankind — 
supervisors  and  officials  of  all  sorts,  controllers, 
inspectors,  policemen,  custom-house  officers,  book- 
keepers, revising-officers,  etc.,  whose  existence  has, 
without  exception,  found  justification  in  man's 
weakness  for  or  lack  of  resistance  against  crime 
and    corruption . 

He  also  called  to  mind  priests,  schoolmasters, 
lawyers  and  judges — in  short,  all  those  persons 
who,  according  to  the  nature  of  their  work,  are  in 
continual  and  intimate  gontact  with  other  men's 
ideas,  strivings,  sorrows,  and  sufferings.  At  the 
thought  of  these,  Romashov  came  to  the  tragic 
conclusion     that     these    individuals     become     more 


THE    DUEL  275 

quickly  than  others  hard,  heartless  egoists,  who, 
wrapping  themselves  in  the  dressing-gown  of  selfish- 
ness, very  soon  grow  frozen  for  ever  in  dead 
formalism.  He  knew  that  there  also  exists  another 
class,  i.e.  those  who  create  and  look  after  the 
external  conditions  of  human  luxury  and  enjoyment 
— engineers,  architects,  inventors,  manufacturers,  and 
all  those  who,  by  their  united  efforts,  can  render 
mankind  inestimable  temporal  services,  and  place 
themselves  solely  at  the  disposal  of  the  rich  and 
powerful.  They  think  only  of  their  own  skin,  of 
their  own  nest,  of  their  own  brood,  and  they  become, 
in  consequence  of  this,  the  slaves  of  gold  and 
tyranny.  Who  is  there  then  to  raise  up,  instruct, 
and  console  the  brutally  used  slave,  Khliabnikov, 
and  say  to  him,  "  Shake  hands  with  me,  brother  "  ? 

Pondering  over  similar  subjects,  Romashov 
certainly  probed  slowly  and  fumblingly,  but  more 
and  more  deeply,  into  the  great  problem  of  life. 
Formerly  everything  seemed  to  him  as  simple  as 
simple  could  be.  The  world  was  divided  into  two 
categories  very  different  in  size  and  importance. 
The  one,  the  guild  of  officers,  constituting  the 
military  caste,  which  alone  attains  power,  honour, 
and  glory,  the  fine  uniform  of  which  confers  an 
uncontested  monopoly  of  bravery,  physical  strength, 
and  unbounded  contempt  for  all  other  living 
creatures  ;  the  other,  the  civilian  element  of  society 
— an  enormous  number  of  indeterminable  petty 
insects  ;  another  race,  a  pariah  class  hardly  worthy 
to  live,  obscure  individuals  to  be  thrashed  and 
insulted  without  rhyme  or  reason,  whose  nose  every 
little  gilded  popinjay  may  tweak,  unless  he  prefers, 
to  the  huge  delight  of  his  comrades,  to  crush  their 
tall  silk  hats  over  his  victims'   ears. 

When   Romashov  thought,   he  stood  apart   from 


ltk& 


276  THE    DUEL 

reality  ;  when  he  viewed  mihtary  life,  as  it  were, 
from  a  secret  corner  through  a  chink  in  the  wall, 
he  gradually  began  to  understand  that  the  army 
and  all  that  pertains  to  it,  with  its  false  glamour 
and  borrowed  plumes,  came  into  the  world  through 
a  mad,  cruel  confusion  of  ideas  in  mankind. 
"  How,"  Romashov  asked  himself,  "  can  so  large 
a  class  of  society,  in  profound  peace,  and  without 
doing  the  country  the  least  good,  be  suffered  to 
exist,  to  eat  the  bread  of  others,  to  walk  in  other 
men's  clothes,  to  dwell  in  other  men's  houses,  only 
with  the  obligation,  in  the  event  of  war,  to  kill 
and  maim  Uving  creatures  of  the  same  race  as 
themselves?  " 

And  more  and  more  clearly  it  dawned  on  his 
mind  that  only  the  two  following  domains  of  activity 
are  worthy  of  man,  viz.  science  and  art  and  free 
manual  labour.  And  with  new  force  the  old  dreams 
and  hopes  of  a  future  Hterary  career  arose  in  him. 
Now  and  again,  when  Chance  put  into  his  hand  a 
valuable  book  rich  in  noble  and  fructifying  ideas, 
he  thought  with  bitter  melancholy  of  himself  : 
"  Good  gracious,  how  simple,  clear  and  true  all  this 
is  which  I  myself,  moreover,  have  known  and  experi- 
enced I  Why  cannot  I,  too,  compose  something 
similar?"  He  wished  he  could  write  a  novel  or 
a  great  romance,  the  leitmotiv  of  which  should 
be  his  contempt  and  disgust  for  military  life.  In 
his  imagination  everything  fell  so  excellently  into 
groups,  his  descriptions  of  scenery  became  true  and 
splendid,  his  puppets  woke  to  life,  the  story  deve- 
loped, and  his  treatment  of  it  made  him  so 
boisterously  cheerful  and  happy.  But  when  he  sat 
down  to  write,  everything  suddenly  became  so  pale 
and  feeble,  so  childish,  so  artificial  and  stereotyped. 
As  long  as  his  pen  ran  quickly  and  boldly  over  the 


THE    DUEL  277 

paper  he  noticed  none  of  these  defects  ;  but  directly 
he  compared  his  own  work  with  that  of  some  of 
the  great  Russian  authors — if  only  with  a  small, 
detached  piece  from  them — he  was  seized  at  once 
by  a  deep  despair,  and  by  shame  and  disgust 
at  his  own  work. 

He  often  wandered,  harassed  by  such  thoughts, 
about  the  streets  in  the  balmy  nights  of  the  latter 
part  of  May.  Without  noticing  it  himself,  he  in- 
variably selected  for  these  promenades  the  same 
way — i.e.  from  the  Jewish  cemetery  to  the  great 
dam,  and  thence  to  the  high  railway  bank.  It 
happened  occasionally  that,  entirely  absorbed  in  his 
dreams,  he  failed  to  notice  the  way  he  took,  and, 
suddenly  waking  up,  he  found  himself,  much  to 
his  astonishment,  in  a  wholly  different  part  of  the 
town. 

Every  night  he  passed  by  Shurochka's  window. 
With  stealthy  steps,  bated  breath,  and  beating  heart, 
he  prowled  along  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 
He  felt  like  a  thief  who,  in  shame  and  anguish, 
tries  hard  to  leave  the  scene  of  his  crime  as  un- 
observed as  possible.  When  the  lamp  was  extin- 
guished in  the  Nikolaiev's  drawing-room,  in  the 
black  window-panes  of  which  there  was  only  a  weak 
reflection  of  the  moon's  faint  rays,  Romashov  hid 
himself  in  the  deep  shade  of  the  high  hoarding, 
pressed  his  crossed  arms  convulsively  against  his 
breast,  and  uttered  in  a  hot  whisper — 

"  Sleep,  sleep,  my  beloved  one,  my  queen  !  I  am 
here  watching  over  you." 

In  such  moments  he  felt  tears  in  his  eyes,  but  in 
his  soul  stirred,  besides  love,  tenderness  and  self- 
sacrificing  affection,  and  also  the  human  animal's 
blind  jealousy  and  lust. 

One   evening   Nikolaiev   was   invited  to   a   whist 


2  78  THE    DUEL 

party  at  the  commander's.  Romashov  was  aware 
of  this.  When,  as  usual  of  a  night,  he  passed 
Nikolaiev's  dwelling,  he  smelt,  from  the  little  flower- 
bed behind  the  hoarding,  the  fragrant,  disturbing 
perfume  of  daffodils.  He  jumped  over  the  hedge, 
soiled  his  hands  with  the  sticky  mould  of  the  bed, 
and  plucked  a  whole  armful  of  soft,  moist,  pale 
flowers . 

The  window  of  Shurochka's  bedroom  was  open. 
It  was  dark  within,  and  not  a  sound  could  be  heard 
from  it.  With  a  boldness  that  astonished  himself, 
Romashov  approached  the  wall,  and  threw  the 
flowers  into  the  room.  Still  the  same  mysterious 
silence.  He  stood  quite  still  for  three  minutes, 
listening  and  waiting.  His  heart-beats,  so  it  seemed 
to  him,  echoed  along  the  whole  of  the  long,  dead- 
silent  street  ;  but  no  answer.  Not  the  faintest  sound 
reached  the  listener's  ears.  With  bent  back,  and 
blushing  for  shame,  he  stole  away  on  tip-toe. 

The  next  day  he  received  the  following  curt  and 
angry   letter    from    Shurochka — 

Never  dare  to  repeat  what  you  did  yesterday.  Courting  in  the 
Romeo  and  Juliet  style  is  always  absurd,  particularly  in  this  little  hole 
of  a  place. 

In  the  daytime  Romashov  tried  to  obtain  a  distant 
glimpse  of  Shurochka  in  the  street,  but  he  never 
succeeded.  He  often  thought  he  recognized  the 
mistress  of  his  heart  in  some  lady  walking  along. 
With  beating  heart  and  thrills  of  bUss  he  hurried 
nearer,  but  every  time  this  turned  out  a  bitter 
disappointment  ;  and  when  he  found  out  his  mistake 
he  felt  in  his  soul  an  abandonment  and  deadly  void 
that  caused  him  pain. 


XVIII 

One  day  towards  the  end  of  May,  a  young  soldier 
belonging  to  Captain  Osadchi's  company  hanged 
himself.  Curiously  enough,  this  suicide  happened 
on  the  same  date  as  a  similar  dreadful  event  in  the 
previous  year,  and  that,  too,  in  Osadchi's  company. 

About  this  time  drinking-bouts  were  arranged  in 
the  regiment.  These,  in  spite  of  their  quasi-official 
character,  were  not  one  whit  inferior  in  coarseness 
to  the  reg^Jlar  and  more  private  gatherings  inter 
pocula.  It  is  highly  probable  that  such  stimulating 
entertainments  were  felt  a  special  necessity  when 
men,  who  have  been  tied  to  one  another  by  fate, 
through  a  soul-destructive  inactivity  or  senseless 
cruelty  towards  their  kind,  have  chanced  to  look 
somewhat  more  deeply  into  each  other's  hearts,  and 
then — in  spite  of  prejudices,  unscrupulousness,  and 
spiritual  darkness — suddenly  realize  in  what  a 
bottomless  pit  of  darkness  they  all  are.  In  order  to 
deaden  the  pangs  of  conscience  and  remorse  at  a  life 
ruined  and  thrown  away,  all  their  insidious,  brutish 
instincts  have  to  be  let  loose  at  once  and  all  their 
passions  satisfied. 

Shortly  after  the  suicide  in  question,  a  similar 
crisis  occurred  among  the  officers.  Osadchi,  as 
might  be  expected,  became  the  instigator  and  high- 
priest  of  the  orgies.     In  the  course  of  several  days 

he   organized   in   the   mess,   games   of  hazard  more 

379 


28o  THE    DUEL 

recklessly  than  ever,  during  which  fearful  quantities 
of  spirit  were  consumed.  Strangely  enough,  this 
wild  beast  in  human  form  soon  managed  to  entice 
pretty  nearly  all  the  officers  of  his  regiment  into  a 
whirl  of  mad  dissipations.  And  during  all  these 
carousals  Osadchi,  with  unparalleled  cynicism,  in- 
solence, and  heartlessness,  tried  to  provoke  expres- 
sions of  disapproval  and  opposition,  by  invoking  all 
the  powers  of  the  nether-world  to  insult  the  name 
and  memory  of  the  unhappy  man  who  had  taken  his 
own  life. 

It  was  about  6  p.m.,  Romashov  was  sitting  at 
his  window  with  his  legs  resting  on  the  window- 
sill,  and  whistling  softly  a  waltz  out  of  Faust.  The 
sparrows  and  magpies  were  making  a  noise  and 
laughing  at  each  other  in  the  garden.  It  was  not 
yet  evening,  but  the  shadows  beneath  the  trees  grew 
longer  and  fainter. 

Suddenly  a  powerful  voice  was  heard  outside 
singing,  not  without  a  certain  spirit,  but  out  of 
tune — 

"The  chargers  are  champing,  snorting,  and  neighing, 
The  foam-covered  bridle  still  holds  them  in  sway." 

Immediately  afterwards  the  door  was  flung  wide 
open,  and  V^iatkin  rolled  into  Romashov 's  room 
with  a  loud  peal  of  laughter.  Although  it  was  all 
he  could  do  to  stand  on  his  legs,  he  kept  on 
singing— 

"  Matrons  and  maidens  with  sorrowful  glances 
Watch  till  their  hero  is  lost  to  their  sight." 

Viatkin  was  still  completely  intoxicated  from  the 
libations  of  the  preceding  day,  and  his  eyelids  were 


THE    DUEL  281 

red  and  swollen  from  a  night  without  sleep.  His 
hat  was  half  off  his  head,  and  his  long,  waxed 
moustache  hung  down  like  the  tusks  of  a  wahus. 

"  R-romuald,  Syria's  holy  hermit,  come,  let  me 
kiss  you  !  "  he  roared  in  a  way  that  echoed  through 
the  whole  house.  "  How  long  do  you  intend  to  sit 
brooding  here?  Come,  let  us  go.  There's  wine  and 
play  and  jolly  fellows  down   there.     Come  !  " 

Viatkin  gave  Romashov  a  sounding  kiss  and 
rubbed   his    face    with    his    wet    moustache. 

"Well,  well,  that  will  do,  Pavel  Pavlich.  Is  that 
the  way  to  go  on?"  Romashov  tried  to  defend 
himself  against  Viatkin 's  repeated  caresses,  but  in 
vain . 

"  Hold  out  your  hand,  my  friend.  Osadchi  is 
kicking  up  a  row  do\vn  there,  so  there's  not  a  pane 
of  glass  unbroken.  Romashevich,  I  love  you. 
Come  here  and  let  me  give  you  a  real  Russian  kiss, 
right  on  the  mouth — do  you  hear?  " 

Viatkin  with  his  swollen  face,  glassy  eyes,  and 
stinking  breath  was  unspeakably  forbidding  to 
Romashov,  but,  as  usual,  the  latter  could  not  ward 
off  such  caresses,  to  which  he  now  responded  by  a 
sickly  and  submissive  smile. 

"  Wait  and  you  shall  hear  why  I  came,"  shrieked 
V^iatkin,  hiccupping  and  stumbling  about  the  room. 
"  Something  important,  you  may  well  believe. 
Bobetinski  was  cleaned  out  by  me  to  his  last  copeck. 
Then  he  wanted,  of  course,  to  give  an  lOU. 
'  Much  obliged,  dear  boy,  but  that  cock  won't  fight. 
But  perhaps  you  have  something  left  to  pledge.' 
Then  he  drew  out  his  revolver — here  it  is,  by  the 
way."  Viatkin  drew  from  his  breeches  pocket, 
which  followed,  turned  inside  out,  a  choice  little, 
well -constructed  revolver  protected  by  a  chamois - 
leather  case.     "  As  you  see,  dear  boy,  the  Mervia 


282  THE    DUEL 

type.  '  Well,'  I  said  to  him,  *  how  much  will  you 
venture  on  that — twenty — ten — fifteen  ? '  And  can 
you  imagine  such  a  curmudgeon  ?  The  first  time 
only  a  rouble,  on  the  '  colour,'  of  course.  But  all 
the  same — hey,  presto  1  slap-bang  !  After  five 
raisings  the  revolver  was  mine  and  the  cartridges 
too.  And  now  you  shall  have  it,  Romashevich,  as 
a  keepsake  of  our  old  friendship.  Some  day  you 
will  always  think  of  me  thus  :  '  Viatkin  was  always 
a  brave  and  generous  officer.'  But  what  are  you 
doing?      Are   you    writing   verses?" 

"  Well,  well,  what  have  you  brought  this  for, 
Pavel    Pavlich?      Put    it    away." 

"All  right.  Perhaps  you  think  it's  no  good?  I 
could  kill  an  elephant  with  it.  Will  experiment 
with  it  at  once.  Where's  that  slave  of  yours?  He 
shall  get  us  a  target  on  the  spot.  Wait  a  second. 
Haindn  ! — slave  I — squire-at-arms  ! — hi!  " 

Viatkin  rolled  out  of  the  door  and  then  into 
Hainan's  closet,  where  for  several  minutes  he  was 
heard  kicking  up  a  row.  Suddenly  he  returned  in 
triumph  with  Pushkin's  bust  under  his  arm. 

"  Well  I  never,  Pavel  Pavlich  !  Don't  make  a 
fool  of  yourself.  Let  that  alone."  But  there  was 
not  sufficient  force  in  Romashov's  objections,  and 
Viatkin  went  on  as  he  pleased. 

**  Rubbish  !  You  chatter  like  a  starling.  Now 
we'll  put  this  on  the  tabouret.  Stand  up,  you  ass. 
I'll  teach  you,  by  Jove  !  " 

With  these  adjurations  to  poor  Pushkin,  Viatkin 
returned  to  Romashov,  took  his  stand  at  the 
window-sill,  and  cocked  his  revolver.  As  he  was 
not  sober,  he  swung  the  muzzle  of  the  weapon  here 
and  there,  and  Romashov  expected  every  second 
that  one  of  them  would  be  killed. 

The  distance  was  about  five  paces.     Viatkin  was 


THE    DUEL  283 

long  in  taking  aim,  during  which  the  muzzle  de- 
scribed some  dangerous  curves  in  the  air.  At  last 
the  shot  rang  out,  and  in  Pushkin's  right  cheek 
appeared  a  big  black,  irregular  hole .  Romashov  was 
for  some  moments  deafened   by  the  report. 

"Well  aimed!"  shrieked  Viatkin,  rejoicing. 
"  Here's  your  revolver,  and  don't  forget  my  friend- 
ship. Hurry  on  now  with  your  uniform  jacket  and 
come  with  us  to  the  mess.  Long  live  the  glorious 
Russian  Army  I  " 

"  Pavel  Pavlich,  I  really  cannot  to-day,"  protested 
Romashov  weakly.  He  could  not  defend  himself. 
In  his  resistance  to  the  other's  strenuous  pressing, 
he  neither  found  the  proper  decisive  word  nor  the 
tone  of  voice  requisite  for  enforcing  respect,  and, 
blaming  himself  inwardly  for  his  despicable  passive 
weakness,  he  wearily  followed  Viatkin,  who  with  his 
shaky  legs  bravely  stumbled  among  the  cucumbers 
and   turnips   in   the    kitchen-garden. 

The  officers'  meeting  that  night  was  more  than 
usually  noisy  and  stormy,  and  finally  assumed  an 
absolutely  mad  character.  First  they  caroused  at 
mess,  then  drove  to  the  railway  station  to  drink 
wine,  after  which  the  orgy  proceeded  in  the  officers' 
casino.  Romashov  held  aloof  at  first,  was  angry 
with  himself  for  yielding,  and  experienced  the  feeling 
of  loathing  that  overcomes  every  sober  individual 
in  a  company  of  drunkards.  The  laughter  struck 
him  as  being  artificial,  the  witticisms  poor,  and  the 
singing  out  of  tune.  But  the  hot  red  wine  he  drank 
at  the  station  mounted  to  his  head  and  produced 
in  him  a  noisy,  nervous  merriment.  A  curtain  of 
millions,  as  it  were,  of  grains  of  sand  dancing 
round  each  other  was  spread  before  his  eyes,  which 
were  heavy  with  wine,  and  at  the  same  time  every- 


284  THE    DUEL 

thing  seemed  to  him  so  enjoyable,  comic,  and 
humorous . 

The  hours  flew  like  seconds,  and  it  was  only  when 
the  lamps  of  the  salle-d-manger  were  lighted  that 
Romashov  began  to  realize  how  the  time  had  sped 
and  that  night  had  set  in. 

"  Gentlemen,"  called  some  one,  "  the  ladies  are 
waiting    for   us.      Let    us    be    of?    to    Schleyfer's." 

"  Hurrah  ! — to   Schleyfer's,   to   Schleyfer's." 

The  proposal  was  hailed  with  laughter  and  jubila- 
tion. All  got  up  and  the  chairs  danced  along  the 
floor.  This  evening  everything,  moreover,  went  off, 
as  it  were,  automatically.  Outside  the  mess-room 
door  stood  a  whole  row  of  phaetons,  but  nobody 
knew  who  ordered  them  and  how  they  came  there. 
Romashov  was  for  some  time  tossed  between 
moments  of  semi-consciousness  and  the  fully  wide- 
awake state  and  alertness  of  mind  of  a  sober  man. 
Suddenly  he  found  himself  sitting  in  a  carriage 
beside  Viatkin.  On  the  front  scat  sat  a  third 
person  whose  features  Romashov  could  not  dis- 
tinguish in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  however  much 
he  might,  by  violent  jerks  of  his  body  sidewards, 
bend  forward  to  look  closely  at  the  unknown.  The 
latter 's  face  was  quite  dark.  Now  it  shrunk  up  to  the 
size  of  a  man's  fist,  at  another  time  it  stretched  itself 
out  awry,  and  then  seemed  to  Romashov  extra- 
ordinarily familiar.  Romashov  suddenly  burst  out 
into  a  roar  of  laughter  that  sounded  unnatural  and 
idiotic,  and  did  not  seem  to  come  from  himself,  but 
from  some  stranger  in  his   immediate  vicinity. 

"  You're  lying,  Viatkin.  I  know  very  well,  my 
dear  fellow,  where  we  are  going  to,"  babbled  Romas- 
hov, in  a  drunken,  chaffing  tone.  "  You're  taking 
me  to  the  girls,  you  rascal." 

At  that  moment  a  carriage  passed  them  with  a 


THE    DUEL  285 

deafening  noise.  By  the  light  of  the  lamp  the 
outlines  of  a  couple  of  brown  country  horses 
dragging  quickly  along  in  an  awkward  and  ridicu- 
lous gallop  an  open  carriage  with  a  drunken  coach- 
man slashing  his  whip  in  a  frantic  way,  and  four 
no  less  intoxicated  officers,  were  reproduced  for 
a  second. 

Consciousness  and  the  faculty  of  reflection  re- 
turned to  Romashov  for  a  moment.  Yes,  it  could 
not  be  disputed  ;  he  was  actually  on  his  way  to  a 
place  where  women  surrendered  their  bodies  to 
caresses  and  embraces  for  payment  in  cash.  "  Ugh  ! 
after  all,  it's  perhaps  the  same  thing  in  the  end. 
Women  are  women,"  shouted  a  wild,  brutish,  im- 
patient voice  within  him.  At  the  same  time,  there 
rang  in  his  soul  a  lovely,  far-away,  scarcely  audible 
music — the  memory  of  Shurochka,  but  in  this  un- 
conscious coincidence  there  was  nothing  low,  defiling, 
or  insulting.  On  the  contrary,  the  thought  of  her 
at  this  moment  had  a  refreshing,  soothing,  and  at 
the  same  time  exciting  and  inflaming  effect  on  his 
heart. 

In  a  short  time  he  would  then  find  himself  in 
close  contact  with  that  curious,  mysterious,  and 
much -vaunted  species  of  women  that  he  had  never 
gazed  on  before.  He  dreamt  of  hoiw  he  would  meet 
their  glances,  take  their  hands,  and  listen  to  their 
merry  laughter  and  joyous  songs,  and  he  felt  that 
aU  this  would  bring  him  relief  and  consolation  in  his 
incessant  longing  and  torturing  desire  for  Shurochka, 
the  only  woman  in  the  world  who  existed  for  him. 
In  all  these  dreams,  however,  there  was  not  a  trace 
of  degraded,  sensual  lust.  As  a  dead -tired  bird 
on  the  wing  rushes,  in  the  cold  and  darkness  of 
an  autumn  night,  bhndly  against  the  irresistibly 
attractive  flood   of   light    from    the   Ughthouse,   so. 


286  THE    DUEL 

too,  his  soul,  tortured  by  a  cruel  and  capricious 
woman,  was  drawn  into  this  sphere  of  undisguised, 
sensual  tenderness  and  careless,  boisterous  merri- 
ment. 

Suddenly  the  horses  made  a  sharp  swerve  to  the 
right,  and  at  onte  the  noise  of  the  carriage  and 
the  squeaking  of  the  wheel -tyres  ceased.  The 
carriage  rocked  here  and  there  in  the  shallow  cavities 
of  the  deep,  sandy  road.  Romashov  opened  his 
eyes.  Far  beneath  him  and  on  a  wide  stretch  of 
land,  a  multitude  of  small  lights  or  lamps  here 
and  there  cast  their  faint,  uncertain  glimmer.  Now 
they  disappeared  behind  invisible  trees  and  houses, 
now  they  bobbed  up  before  his  eyes,  and  it  looked 
as  if  a  huge,  fantastic,  disordered  crowd  of  people 
or  a  procession  with  torches  and  lanterns  was  moving 
forward  down  the  road.  An  acrid  smell  of  worm- 
wood, a  big  dark  branch  slowly  waved  up  and 
down  over  tlie  heads  of  the  parties  who  were  being 
driven  along,  and,  at  the  same  time,  they  found 
themselves  suddenly  environed  by  a  new  atmosphere 
— cold,  raw,  and  moist,  as  if  it  had  arisen  from  a 
vault . 

"  Where  are  we?  "    asked  Romashov. 

"  At  Savalie,"  shrieked  in  reply  the  dark  figure 
sitting  on  the  box -seat,  in  whom  Romashov  now 
recognized  Lieutenant  Epifanov.  "  We're  at  Schley- 
fer's,  you  know.  Haven't  you  ever  been  here 
before?  " 

"Go  to  hell,"  grumbled  Romashov.  Epifanov 
kept  on  laughing. 

"  Hark  you,  Yuri  Alexievich,  shall  we  tell  the 
little  darlings  in  a  whisper  what  an  innocent  you 
are  ?  Later  on,  you'll  put  all  our  noses  out  of 
joint." 

Again  Romashov  felt,  half-unconsciously,  that  he 


THE    DUEL  287 

had  sunk  back  into  impenetrable  darkness,  until  he,  as 
suddenly,  found  himself  standing  in  a  large  room 
with  parqueted  floor  and  Vienna  chairs  along  the 
walls.  Over  the  entrance  to  the  room,  and  over 
three  other  doors  leading  to  small,  dark  chambers, 
lay  hangings  of  red  and  yellow  flowered  cotton. 
Curtains  of  the  same  stuff"  and  colour  flickered  in 
the  draught  from  the  windows  opened  on  a  gloomy 
backyard.  Lamps  were  burning  on  the  walls,  but 
the  great  room  was  filled  with  smoke  and  the  smell 
of  meat  from  the  adjacent  kitchen  ;  and  the  fumes 
were  only  dispersed  occasionally  by  the  balmy  spring 
air  entering  through  the  window,  and  by  the  fresh 
scent  of  the  white  acacias  that  bloomed  outside  the 
house. 

About  ten  officers  took  part  in  this  excursion.  All 
seemed  bent  on  solving  the  dehcate  problem  of 
contriving  to  shriek,  laugh,  and  bawl  at  the  same 
time.  Romashov  strolled  about  the  room  with  a 
feeling  of  naive,  unreflecting  enjoyment,  and,  with 
a  certain  astonishment  and  delight,  gradually  recog- 
nized all  his  boon -companions  —  Biek-Agamalov, 
Lbov,  Viatkin,  Epifanov,  Artschakovski,  Olisar,  etc. 
Even  Staff -Captain  Lieschtschenko  was  discovered 
there.  He  sat  huddled  up  in  a  window  with  his 
usual,  eternal,  resigned  Weltschmerz  grin.  On  a 
table  stood  a  respectable  row  of  bottles  containing 
ale  and  a  dark,  thick,  syrupy  cherry -cordial.  No 
one  knew  who  had  ordered  all  these  bottles.  They 
were  thought — like  so  much  else  that  night — to  have 
come  of  their  own  accord.  Romashov  drank,  pro- 
posed healths,  and  embraced  every  one  he  met,  and 
began  to  feel  sticky  and  messy  about  his  lips  and 
fingers . 

There  were  five  or  six  women  in  the  room.  One 
of  them — a  girl  of  fourteen  dressed  as  a  page,  with 


288  THE    DUEL 

rose-coloured  stockings — sat  on  Biek-Agamalov's 
knee  and  played  with  his  epaulettes.  Another — 
a  big,  coarse  blonde  in  a  red  silk  basqmne  and  dark 
skirt,  and  with  jpowdered  face,  and  broad,  black, 
painted  eyebrows — went  straight   up   to   Romashov. 

"  Gracious,  my  good  sir,  why  do  you  look  so 
miserable?  Come  with  me  into  that  room,"  she 
added  in  a  whisper. 

She  threw  herself  carelessly  on  a  table,  and  there 
sat  with  one  leg  over  the  other.  Romashov  noticed 
how  the  strong  outlines  of  her  well-formed  knee 
were  shown  off  by  the  thin  skirt.  A  shudder  thrilled 
him,  and  his  hands  trembled. 

"  What's  your  name?  " 

"  Mine?  Malvina."  She  turned  away  with  an  air 
of  indifference^  and  began  swinging  her  legs. 
"  Order  me  a  cigarette." 

Two  Jewish  musicians  came  on  the  scene,  one 
with  a  violin,  the  other  with  a  tambourine.  Soon 
a  vulgar,  hackneyed,  screeching  polka  tune  was 
heard  in  the  room,  whereupon  Olis^r  and  Artscha- 
kovski  at  once  began  to  dance  the  cancan.  They 
hopped  round  the  room  first  on  one  leg,  then  on 
the  other,  snapped  their  fingers,  wagged  their  hips, 
and  bent  backwards  and  forwards  with  vulgar, 
cynical  gestures.  This  unattractive  ballet  was 
suddenly  interrupted  by  Biek  -  Agamalov,  who 
jumped  off  the  table,  shrieking  in  his  sharp,  pene- 
trating voice — 

"  To  hell  with  the  starar  !  Out  with  the  ragtag 
and  bobtaU  I  " 

Down  by  the  door  stood  two  young  exquisites, 
both  of  whom  had  many  acquaintances  among 
officers,  and  had  even  been  guests  at  the  regimental 
soirees.  One  of  them  was  a  Treasury  ofiicial,  the 
other  a  landed  proprietor  and  brother  of  the  police 


THE    DUEL  289 

magistrate  of  the  town.  They  both  belonged  to  the 
so-called    "  cream  "   of    Society. 

The  Treasury  official  turned  white,  but  forced  a 
smile,  and  answered  in  an  affable  tone — 

"  Excuse  me,  gentlemen,  but  can't  we  join?  We 
are  old  acquaintances,  you  know.  My  name  is 
Dubiezki.  We  should  not  interfere  with  you 
at  all." 

"  Possibly  in  making  love,  but  not  when  the  fight 
begins,"  added  the  magistrate's  brother,  who  tried 
to  adopt  a  good-humoured  tone. 

"  Out  of  this  I  "  screamed  Biek  -  Agamalov. 
"  March  to  the  door  I  " 

"  Gentlemen,  by  all  means,  put  the  starar  out," 
sneered  Artschakovski. 

A  horrible  confusion  arose  in  the  room.  Tables 
and  chairs  were  thrown  over  ;  the  mfen  shrieked, 
laughed,  and  ^tamped  with  all  their  might.  The 
flames  of  the  lamps  rose  like  fiery  tongues  on  high. 
The  cold  night  air  penetrated  through  the  open 
windows,  but  without  any  cooling  or  calming  effect 
on  all  these  half -demented  fighting-cocks.  The  two 
civilians  had  already  been  thrown  into  the  back- 
yard, where  they  were  heard  fiercely  screeching  and 
threatening  with  tears  in  their  voices — 

"  Opritschniker,^  brigands  !  This  affair  will  cost 
you  dear.  We  shall  lodge  a  complaint  with  your 
commander,  with  the  Governor." 

"  Oo-00-oo-oo-oo,"  Viatkin  sneered  in  mockery, 
whilst  stretching  out  of  the  window.  "Go  to 
blazes  I  " 

It  seemed  to  Romashov  as  if  all  the  events  of  the 
day  had  followed  one  another  without  a  brjeak,  but 
also  without  the  least  intelligible  connection,  just  as 

'  The  name  given  to  Ivan  the  Terrible's  lifeguards  and  execu- 
tioners. 

«9 


290  THE    DUEL 

if  a  series  of  wild  pictures  in  loud  and  motley  colours 
had  been  unrolled  before  his  eyes.  Again  were 
heard  the  scraping  of  the  violin  and  the  tambourine's 
blustering  noise.  One  of  the  "  partners  "  had  now 
gone  so  far  as  to  pirouette  on  the  floor  with  nothing 
but  his  shirt  on.  A  pretty,  slender  woman,  who 
had  up  to  then  escaped  Romashov's  notice,  with 
dishevelled  hair  over  her  bare  neck,  and  sharp, 
prominent  shoulder-blades,  wound  her  arms  round 
poor  Lieschtschenko's  neck  and  sang  in  his  ear  in 
her  shrill  soprano,  and  in  unison  with  the  violin's 
awful   melody  : 

"When  consumption  sets  its  mark, 
And  you're  lying  pale  and  stark, 
And  doctors  are  seen  fumbling  round  your  couch." 

Bobetinski  slung  a  glass  of  ale  between  the  cur- 
tains of  one  of  the  little,  dark  cabinets,  whence  very 
soon  proceeded  an  angry,  but  sleepy,  thick  voice — 

"Aren't  you  ashamed,  sir?  Who  dares  .  .  .? 
Such  a  low  swine  !  " 

"  I  say  1  how  long  have  you  been  here?  "  asked 
Romashov  of  the  lady  in  the  red  basquine,  whilst, 
as  it  were,  in  an  absent-minded  way,  he  rested 
his  hand  on  her  strong,  warm  knee. 

She  made  some  answer,  but  he  did  not  hear  it. 
A  fresh  scene  of  savagery  had  absorbed  all  his 
attention.  Sub -lieutenant  Lbov  was  driving  before 
him  one  of  the  musicians,  and  banging  him  on 
the  head  all  the  time  with  the  tambourine.  The 
poor  Jew,  terrified  out  of  his  wits,  ran  from  corner 
to  corner,  screaming  and  babbling  his  unintelligible 
jargon,  with  wholly  ineffectual  attempts  to  catch  his 
long,  fluttering  coat-tails,  and  incessantly  glancing 
behind  him  from   the   comers   of   his  eyes   at   his 


THE    DUEL  291 

unmerciful  persecutor.  Everybody  was  laughing. 
Artschakovski  fell  flat  on  the  floor,  and  wriggled 
with  tears  in  his  eyes  and  in  alarming  convulsions 
of  laughter.  Directly  afterwards  the  other  Jew's 
piercing  yells  were  audible.  Another  of  the  com- 
pany had  snatched  the  vioUn,  and  thrown  it  down 
with  fearful  violence.  With  a  crashing  sound  that 
harmonized,  in  an  almost  touching  way,  with  the 
musician's  desperate  cries  for  help,  the  instrument 
broke  into  a  thousand  fragments .  What  followed  this 
Romashov  never  perceived,  inasmuch  as,  for  several 
minutes,  he  was  in  a  sort  of  dark  "  nirvana."  When 
he  had  somewhat  regained  the  use  of  his  reason, 
he  saw,  as  though  in  a  fever -dream,  that  aU  in 
the  room  were  running  round  each  other  with  wild 
shrieks  and  gestures  of  despair.  'For  an  instant 
the  whole  swarm  gathered  round  Biek-Agamalov, 
only  in  the  next  instant  to  be  scattered  like  chaff 
in  aU  directions.  The  majority  sought  safety  in 
the  little,  dark  cabinets. 

"  Out  of  it  !  I  won't  stand  a  single  one  !  " 
shrieked  Biek  -  Agamalov  in  Berserker  fury.  He 
ground  his  teeth,  stamped  on  the  floor,  and  struck 
about  him  with  his  clenched  fists.  His  face  was 
crimson  ;  the  veins  in  his  forehead  from  the  roots 
of  his  hair  to  his  nose  stood  like  strained  ropes  ; 
his  head  was  lowered  like  a  bull's,  and  his  un- 
naturally prominent  eyes  with  their  bloodshot  whites 
were  terrifying.  He  was  unable  to  utter  any  human 
soimds,  but  groaned,  like  a  mid  beast,  in  a  vibrating 
voice — 

"  Ah-ah-ah-ah  1  " 

Suddenly,  whilst  bending  the  upper  part  of  his 
body  to  the  left  with  the  suppleness  of  a  panther, 
he  drew  his  sabre,  as  quick  as  lightning,  from  its 
sheath.      The   broad,    sharp   blade    described,    with 


292  THE    DUEL 

a  whistling  sound,  several  rapid  circles  over  his 
head. 

In  frantic  terror  every  living  creature  fled  helter- 
skelter  from  the  room  through  doors  and  windows, 
the  women  screaming  hysterically,  the  men  tramp- 
ling down  all  that  lay  in  their  way.  Romashov 
was  carried  by  the  current  irresistibly  towards  the 
door,  where  an  officer  rushing  past  caused  him, 
by  the  sharp  facet  of  his  uniform -button,  a  long, 
bleeding  scratch  on  his  face.  The  next  moment 
all  stood  whooping  and  yelling  in  the  yard,  except 
Romashov,  who  alone  remained  by  the  door  of  the 
room.  He  felt  his  heart  beating  with  increased 
force  and  quickness  ;  but  the  murderous,  unbridled 
scene  filled  him  not  only  with  terror,  but  also  with 
an  intoxicating  feeling  of  savage,  exulting  defiance. 

"  I  will  have  blood  !  "  screamed  Biek-Agamalov, 
with  gnashing  teeth.  The  sight  of  the  terror  he 
inspired  deprived  him  of  the  last  remains  of  under- 
standing and  reflection.  With  frantic  strength  and 
rage  he  smashed,  with  a  few  strokes,  all  the  furni- 
ture nearest  to  him,  and,  after  that,  hurled  his  sabre 
with  such  force  at  a  large  mirror  that  the  glass 
splinters  hailed  on  all  sides.  With  another  blow 
he  laid  waste  the  table,  which  was  crowded  with 
a  number  of  bottles  and  glasses,  the  fragments  and 
contents  of  which  were  thrown  all  over  the  floor. 

But  just  at  that  moment  cried  a  piercing  voice 
of  indescribable  fury  and   boldness — 

"  Fool  I      Cad  !  " 

This  insult  was  hurled  by  the  same  bare-headed 
woman  with  naked  arms  as  had  just  embraced 
Lieschtschenko .  This  was  the  first  time  that 
Romashov  had  noticed  her.  She  was  standing  in 
a  recess  behind  the  stove,  leaning  forward  with 
clenched   hands   tightly   pressed    against    her    hips, 


THE    DUEL  293 

and  pouring  out  an  uninterrupted  flow  of  "  Billings- 
gate "  with  a  rapidity  and  readiness  which  the  vilest 
market-woman  might  have  envied. 

"  Fool  1  Cad  I  Scum  !  I  am  not  afraid  of  you  I 
Fool  1    Fool  !    Fool  !  " 

Biek-Agamalov  lowered  his  sabre,  and  seemed, 
for  a  moment,  to  lose  all  power  over  himself. 
Romashov  saw  how  his  face  grew  whiter  and 
whiter,  how  his  eyebrows  puckered,  and  how  the 
yellow  pupils  first  darkened  and  then  hurled  a 
blinding  flash  of  diabolical  hatred  and  rage  which 
no  longer  knew  bounds.  His  knees  gave  way,  and 
his  head  fell  on  his  chest.  At  that  moment,  Biek- 
Agamalov  was  no  longer  a  human  being.  He  was 
transformed  into  a  bloodthirsty  wild  beast  straining 
every  nerve  for  the  fatal  leap. 

"  Silence  !  "  It  sounded  as  if  he  had  spat  out 
the  word.     Speak  he  could  not. 

"  Scoundrel,  brute,  beast,  1  shall  not  be  silent  I  " 
shrieked  the  fury  in  the  stove  comer,  her  body 
trembling  all  over  at   every  word  she  hurled. 

Romashov  felt  himself  getting  whiter  and  whiter 
every  moment.  He  felt  a  sensation  of  void  in  his 
brain,  a  sensation  of  release  from  every  oppressive 
act  of  thought  or  reflection,  A  curious  mixture  of 
joy  and  terror  arose  in  his  soul,  just  as  the  bubbles 
of  sparkling  wine  ascend  to  the  edge  of  a  goblet. 
He  saw  Biek-Agamalov,  whilst  continually  follow- 
ing the  woman  with  his  eyes,  slowly  raise  his  sabre 
above  his  head.  An  irresistible  flow  of  frantic 
jubilation,  fear,  inconsiderate  boldness,  carried 
Romashov  away.  He  rushed  forward  so  rapidly 
that  he  did  not  even  hear  Biek-Agamalov  hiss  his 
last  question — 

"Will   you   be  silent?    For  the  last   time " 

Romashov,    with   a   force   he   never   thought    he 


294  THE    DUEL 

was  capable  of,  gripped  Agamalov's  wrist.  During 
the  course  of  a  few  seconds  and  at  a  distance  of  a 
couple  of  inches  between  their  faces,  the  two  officers 
eyed  one  another  without  moving,  stiff  as  if  carved 
out  of  stone.  Romashov  heard  his  comrade's  quick, 
panting  breath  ;  he  saw  his  eyes  glitter  with  hate 
and  a  thirst  for  revenge,  and  his  lips  foam  with 
the  spasmodic  movements  of  his  lower  jaw  ;  but  he 
felt  that  the  fire  of  wrath  would,  in  a  few  minutes, 
be  extinguished  in  this  man  who  had  never  yet 
sought,  of  his  own  accord,  to  curb  his  passions. 
But  to  Romashov  this  feeling  of  proud  triumph 
in  a  game  of  life  and  death,  from  which  he  now 
knew  he  should  come  out  the  victor,  was  almost 
intolerable.  He  knew  that  all  those  who  were 
anxiously  watching  this  scene  from  outside  also 
realized  in  what  deadly  danger  he  stood.  Out  in 
the  yard  and  by  the  open  windows  there  brooded 
such  a  hush  and  quiet  that,  all  of  a  sudden,  a 
nightingale  a  few  paces  off  began  to  trill  her 
joyous  lay. 

"  Let  me  go,"  came  at  last  like  a  hoarse  whisper 
from  Biek-Agamalov's  bitten  lips. 

"  }3iek,  you  must  never  strike  a  woman,"  replied 
Romashov  calmly.  "  You  would  blush  for  it  as 
long  as  you  lived." 

The  last  sparks  of  rage  and  madness  now  died 
out  in  Agamalov's  eyes.  Romashov  drew  a  deep 
breath  as  if  from  a  long  swoon.  His  heart  beat 
irregularly  and  quick,  and  his  head  was  again  heavy 
and  feverishly  hot. 

"  Let  me  go  1  "  shrieked  Biek-Agamalov  once 
more  in  a  fierce  tone,  and  tried  to  release 
himself.  Romashov  felt  he  would  no  longer  be 
able  to  keep  his  hold  of  him  ;  but  he  had  no 
further  dread  of  his  wrath.     He  said  in  a  caressing 


THE    DUEL  295 

brotherly  tone,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  comrade's 
shoulder — 

"  Forgive  me,  Biek,  but  I  know  that  a  day  will 
come  when  you  wiU  thank  me  for  this." 

Biek-Agamalov  with  a  loud  snap  stuck  his  sabre 
into  its  sheath. 

"  All  right,  confound  you  !  "  he  screamed  in  an 
angry  tone,  in  which,  however,  there  was  a  note  of 
shame  and  confusion.  "  We'll  settle  this  matter 
afterwards .     But  what  right  have  you ?  ' ' 

The  valiant  crowd  in  the  yard  now  understood 
that  all  danger  was  over  for  the  present.  With 
loud,  but  not  quite  natural,  peals  of  laughter,  the 
lot  now  rushed  into  the  room.  But  he  now  seemed 
extinguished,  his  strength  exhausted,  and  there  was 
something  apathetic  and  ironically  contemptuous 
about    him. 

Now  Madame  Schleyfer  herself — a.  massive  lady 
with  a  hard  look,  small  dark  pouches  under  her 
eyes,  disappearing  eyelashes,  and  great  layers  of 
fat  on  her  neck  and  bosom — entered  the  room.  She 
attacked  first  one  and  then  the  other  of  the  officers  ; 
took  tight  hold  of  one  by  a  button,  of  another  by  a 
sleeve,  and  howled  to  each  of  them  who  could  stand 
and  listen  her  everlasting  song — 

'*'  Gentlemen,  gentlemen,  who  will  make  good  all 
this  ?  Who  will  pay  for  the  mirror,  the  furniture, 
the   bottles,    the    girls  ?  " 

AU  this  meanwhile  was  settled  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  authorities  by  the  name  mysterious  "  bene- 
factor "  who  had  provided  for  everything  else  in 
the  course  of  this  memorable  excursion.  The  officers 
left  the  room  in  groups .  Every  one  of  ithem  inhaled 
with  delight  the  mild,  pure  air  of  the  May  night. 
Romashov  felt  all  his  being  thrilled  with  a  certain 
joyous  agitation.     It  seemed  to  him  as  if  all  traces 


296  THE    DUEL 

of  the  day's  orgies  had  vanished  from  his  brain,  as  if 
a  pair  of  innocent  fresh  lips  had  repurified  and 
refreshed  him  by  a  soft  kiss  on  his  brow. 

Biek-Agamalov  came  up  to  him,  took  his  handj 
and  said — 

"  Romashov,  come  and  ride  in  my  carriage.  1 
wish  you  to  do  so." 

And  when  Romashov,  on  one  occasion  during 
the  journey  home,  turned  towards  the  right  to 
observe  the  awkward  gallop  of  the  horses,  Biek- 
Agamalov  seized  his  hand  and  pressed  it  for  a  long" 
time  warmly — nay,  so  hard  that  it  almost  caused 
pain.  Not  a  word,  however,  passed  between  the  two 
officers  during  the  whole  way. 


XIX 

The  violent  emotion  felt  by  every  member  of  the 
company  during  the  wild  gcene  we  have  just  depicted 
found  expression  in  a  nervous  irritability  which,  on 
their  return  to  the  mess-room,  took  the  form  of  reck- 
less arrogance  and  gross  misbehaviour  to  all  who 
happened  to  come  across  the  officers  on  their  way 
home.  A  poor  Jew  coming  along  was  stopped  and 
deprived  of  his  cap.  Olisdr  got  up  in  the  carriage, 
and  insulted,  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  in  the 
middle  of  the  street,  all  passers-by  in  a  rnanner 
which  cannot  be  decently  described.  Bobetinski 
whipped  his  coachman  for  no  reason  whatever.  The 
others  sang  and  bawled  with  all  their  might  ;  only 
Biek-Agamalov,  who  rode  beside  Homaihov,  sat  all 
the  time  angry,  silent,  and  taciturn. 

Notwithstanding  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  the 
mess-rooms  were  brilliantly  illuminated  and  full  of 
people.  In  the  card  and  billiard-rooms  and  at  the 
buffet  creatures  with  unbuttoned  coats,  flaming  faces, 
vacantly  staring  eyes  and  of  uncertain  gait,  helplessly 
collided  with  each  other,  heavily  fuddled  by  the 
fumes  of  wine  and  tobacco  smoke.  Romashov,  who 
was  walking  about  and  nodding  to  several  of  the 
officers,  also  found  among  them,  to  his  great  aston- 
ishment, Nikolaiev.  He  was  sitting  by  Osadchi, 
red  in  face  and  intoxicated,  but  holding  himjself 
upright.  On  seeing  Romashov  approaching  he  eyed 
him  sharply  for  a  few  seconds,  but  afterwards  turned 

297 


298  THE    DUEL 

abruptly  aside,  so  as  to  avoid  holding  out  his  hand 
to  the  latter,  meanwhile  conversing  with  his  neigh- 
bour with  increased  interest. 

"  Viatkin,  come  here  and  sing,"  bellowed 
Osadchi  over  the  heads  of  the  rest. 

"  Yes,  come  let  us  sing,"  chanted  Viatkin,  in 
reply,  parodying,  imitating,  and  caricaturing  a 
melody  from  the   Church  ritual— 

•'Three  small  boys  found  lurching 
Got  an  awful  birching 
At  the  parson's  stile." 

Viatkin  imitated  in  quick  succession  and  in  the 
same  tone  the  strophes  recited  in  the  remainder  of 
the  antiphon  at  Mass —  < 

"Sexton,  parson,  and  his  clerk 
Thought  the  smacking  quite  a  lark. 
Then  the  beadle  said,  '  By  hell, 
Nikifor,  you  smack  right  well.' " 

"  Nikifor,  you  smack  right  well ! " 

answered  pianissimo  in  complete  harmony  the 
hastily  improvised  choir  of  drunken  officers, 
seconded  by  Osadchi's  softly  rumbling  bass  voice. 
Viatkin  conducted  the  singing,  standing  on  a 
table  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  whilst  stretching  his 
arms  in  an  attitude  of  benediction  over  the  heads 
of  the  "  congregation."  Now  his  eyes  flashed  terri- 
fying glances  of  threat  and  condemnation  ;  at 
another  time  they  were  raised  to  heaven  with  a 
languishing  expression  of  infinite  beatitude  ;  then 
he  hissed  with  rage  at  those  who  sang  out  of  tune  ; 
again  he  stopped  in  time  by  a  scarcely  perceptible 
tremolo  of  the  palm  of  his  hand  a  run  to  a  misplaced 
crescendo . 


THE    DUEL  299 

**  Staflf-Captain  Lieschtschenko,  you're  singing 
damnably.  Damn  it,  what  a  wretched  ear  !  "  roared 
Osadchi.  "  Keep  quiet  in  the  room,  gentlemen. 
No   noise,   please,   when   there's   singing." 

"  Once  on  a  time  a  farmer  so  rich — 
Who  used  to  like  iced  punch  " — 

continued  Viatkin,  in  his  improvised  service  of  the 
Church.  His  eyes,  however,  now  began  to  smart 
dreadfully  from  the  dense  tolDacco  smoke.  Romas- 
hov  was  reminded  by  the  wet  and  sticky  tablecloth 
that  he  had  not  washed  his  hands  since  dinner.  He 
went  out  and  made  his  way  across  the  yard  to  a  side 
room  called  the  "  Officers'  Shelter,"  which  served 
as  a  sojt  of  lavatory.  It  was  a  cold,  dismal  little  crib 
with  only  one  window.  Several  common  cupboards 
stood  along  the  wall,  and  between  them,  in  hospital 
fashion,  were  placed  two  beds,  the  sheets,  etc.,  of 
which  were  never  changed.  Not  a  man  in  the  entire 
regiment  could  recollect  when  this  room  was  swept 
and  cleaned.  There  was  an  intolerable  stench  there, 
the  main  ingredients  of  which  were  rotting  bed- 
clothes, stinkirxg  boots,  and  bad  tobacco.  The  room 
was  originally  intended  for  officers  of  other  regi- 
ments who  happened  to  be  visiting  the  garrison  town, 
but  it  gradually  became  converted  into  a  sort  of 
morgue  for  those  who  got  dead  drunk  at  mess.  It 
was  almost  officially  designated  as  "  the  mortuary," 
which  name,  by  a  dreadful  irony  of  fate,  .received  its 
full  justification  from  the  fact  that  no  less  than  two 
officers  and  one  soldier  had  committed  suicide  in 
it  during  the  few  years  the  regiment  had  been 
garrisoned  in  the  town.  Moreover,  not  a  year 
elapsed  without  one  suicide  taking  place  among  the 
officers  of  this  regiment. 


300  THE    DUEL 

When  Romashov  entered  "  the  mortuary  "  he 
found  two  men  sitting  there  on  a  bed  near  the 
window .  The  room  was  dark,  and  it  was  jsome  time 
before  Romashov  recognized  in  one  of  the  "  guests  " 
ex-Staff- Captain  Klodt,  alcoholist  and  thief,  and  on 
those  groimds  expelled  from  the  command  of  his 
company.  The  other  was  a  certain  Ensign 
Solotuchin — a  tall,  lean,  bald-headed,  worn-out  rake 
and  gambler,  feared  and  despised  wherever  he  went 
for  his  evil,  lying  tongue  and  his  conversation  inter- 
larded with  coarse  cynicisms  and  improprieties — 
a  veritable  type  of  the  ensigns  of  the  story- 
books. 

Between  these  two  worthy  "  birds  of  a  feather  " 
might  be  seen  on  the  table  the  dim  outline  of  a 
schnapps  bottle,  an  empty  plate,  and  two  full 
glasses.  The  pair  of  boon  companions  were  silent 
when  Romashov  entered  the  room,  and  tried,  as  it 
were,  to  hide  themselves  in  the  darkness  ;  but  when 
he  leaned  over  them,  they  looked  at  him  with  a 
sly  smile. 

"  What,  in  the  name  of  goodness,  are  you  two 
doing  here?  "  asked  Romashov,  in  alarm. 

"  Hush  !  "  Solotuchin  made  a  mysterious  warning 
gesture  with  his  forefinger.  "  Wait  here,  and  don't 
disturb  us." 

"  Hold  your  jaw  I  "    ordered  Klodt  in  a  whisper. 

At  the  same  moment  the  rattling  noise  of  a  telega 
was  heard  somewhere  in  the  distance.  Then  the 
two  strangers  raised  their  glasses,  clicked  them 
together,  and  drained  the  contents. 

"  But  answer  me.  What  is  the  meaning  of  it 
all?  "  repeated  Romashov  in  the  same  anxious  tone. 

"  My  little  greenhorn,"  replied  Klodt  in  a  signifi- 
cant whisper,  "  if  you  must  know,  it's  only  our 
usual   little  morning   repast  ;   but  now   I   hear  the 


THE    DUEL  301 

telega.  Ensign,"  Klodt  went  on  to  say  as  he  turned  to 
Solotuchin.  "  It's  time  then  to  finish  our  drink  and 
be  off.  What  do  you  think  of  the  moonlight? 
Will  it  suit?  " 

"  My  glass  is  empty  already,"  replied  Solotuchin, 
glancing  out  of  the  window  at  the  moon's  slender, 
pointed  sickle  that  stood  drowsy  and  sleepy  in  the 
sky,  and  hung  down  over  the  little  slumbering  town. 
"  But  let's  just  wait  a  wee  bit.  S-sh  !  I  thought  I 
heard   a  dog  barking." 

And  again  they  bent  towards  one  another  to 
resume  their  mysterious  conversation,  carried  on  in 
a  low  voice  ;  the  spluttering  tone  and  evident  lack 
of  coherence  witnessed  clearly  enough  that  the 
schnapps  had  begun  to  take  effect.  From  the  salle- 
d-manger  hard  by  came  now  and  then  the  melan- 
choly, hollow  tones  "of  Viatkin's  and  Osadchi's  im- 
provised Mass  for  the  Dead,  which  had  a  weird  and 
threatening  ring  about  it  in  the  silent  night. 

Romashov  seized  his  head  with  both  hands. 

"  I  beseech  you,  gentlemen,  to  stop  this.  I  can't 
stand  it  any  longer." 

"Go  to  the  devil  !  "  roared  Solotuchin.  "  No, 
stop,  dear  boy — whither  away?  But,  by  all  that's 
unholy,  you  shall  first  drink  a  glass  with  two  fine 
fellows.  Catch  tight  hold  of  him.  Captain,  I'll  shut 
the  door." 

With  a  yell  of  laughter  the  two  scoundrels  jumi>ed 
up  to  seize  Romashov  ;  but  the  latter 's  self-command 
was  exhausted.  The  whole  hideous  situation — this 
disgusting  drinking-bout  in  the  weird,  dark  room 
with  its  insufferable,  stifling  atmosphere  —  this 
mysterious  midnight  meeting  between  two  indi- 
viduals who  were  a  danger  to  society — the  vulgar 
bellowing  of  the  drunken  officers  and  their  blas- 
phemous parody  of  the  Russian  Mass — all  this  filled 


302  THE    DUEL 

him  with  frantic  terror  and  nausea.  With  a  piercing 
shriek,  he  thrust  Solotuchin  from  him,  and,  trembling 
in  every  limb,  rushed  deliberately  from  the  mortuary. 

Common  sense  now  urged  him  to  go  home,  but  a 
strange,  unfathomable  inward  force  again  drove  him, 
against  his  will,  to  the  mess-room.  There  some  of 
the  wine-soaked  company  were  asleep  on  the 
window-sills  and  chairs.  A  stifling  heat  prevailed, 
and,  in  spite  of  the  wide-open  windows,  the 
drowsily  burning  lights  and  lamps  were  never 
reached  by  a  quickening  draught  of  air.  The  poor, 
dead-tired  soldiers  who  attended  to  the  waiting  could 
scarcely  stand  on  their  legs,  and  every  moment 
stifled  a  yawn,  but  as  yet  none  of  the  champion 
boozers  had  entertained  a  thought  of  breaking  up. 

Viatkin  had  again  taken  his  place  on  a  table, 
and  was  singing  in  his  high,  caressive  tenor 
voice — 

"  Swift  as  the  ocean's 
Roaring  billows, 
Vanishes  life  in  eternity." 

There  were  several  officers  in  the  regiment  with 
really  beautiful  voices,  which  even  now  were  very 
effective  in  spite  of  the  drink. 

This  simple,  plaintive  melody  exercised,  at  this 
moment,  an  ennobling  influence  on  all,  and  more 
than  one  of  them  experienced  a  pricking,  remorseful 
feeling  at  the  thought  of  his  worthless,   sinful  life. 

"Once  you're  in  your  coffin, 
Soon  the  world  forgets  your  name," 

continued  Viatkin  in  a  voice  of  emotion,  and  his 
sleepy  but  good  eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears. 
Artschakovski  seconded  him  with  unimpeachable 
care.    To  make  his  voice  thrill  he  grasped  his  larynx 


THE    DUEL  303 

with  two  fingers  and  shook  it.  Osadchi  accom- 
panied it  all  with  his  heavy,  long-drawn,  organ  notes . 
After  the  singing  there  reigned  a  deep  silence  for 
a  few  moments.  Suddenly  Osadchi  began  again  to 
recite  in  a  subdued  tone  and  eyes  cast  do\\Ti — 

"  All  ye  who  wander  in  sorrow's  heavy,  narrow  road " 

"  No,  that's  enough  of  it,"  a  voice  exclaimed. 
"  This  is  now,  I  suppose,  the  tenth  time  we  have 
taken   up   this   cursed   Mass   of   Requiem " 

But  the  rest  had  already  intoned  the  solemn 
melody  that  divides  the  recitative  of  the  antiphon, 
and  once  more,  in  the  reeking  and  dirty  roomi, 
resounded  the  requiem  over  St.  John  of  Damascus  in 
clear,  full-voiced  strains  that  express  in  so  masterly 
a  way  the  inconsolable  sorrow  for  death's  inexorable 
cruelty — 

"All  ye  who  believe  in  Me  enter  into  the  joy  of  My  Father," 

Artschakovski,  who  was  as  familiar  with  the 
ritual  as  the  most  exj>erienced  choir-singer,  at  once 
repeated  the  following  answer  in  accordance  with 
the  text — 

"With  our  whole  soul  we  all  praise,"  etc. 

And  so  the  whole  antiphon  was  chanted  ;  but  when 
Osadchi 's  turn  came  to  take  up  the  recitation  for 
the  last  time,  he  lowered  his  head  like  an  infuriated 
bull,  the  veins  in  his  neck  swelled,  and  as  he  directed 
his  melancholy,  cruel,  and  threatening  glances  to- 
wards those  present,  he  declaimed  in  a  half-singing 
tone,  and  in  a  voice  that  resembled  the  roar  of 
distant  thunder — 

"  Give,  O  Lord,  Thy  departed  slave,  Nikifor, 
A  blessed  departure  hence  and  eternal  rest.'* 


304  THE    DUEL 

In  the  midst  of  this  lofty  and  pious  invocation  he 
stopped  short,  and,  to  the  horror  of  the  bystanders, 
uttered  two  words  of  the  most  blasphemous,  cynical, 
and   disgusting  import. 

Romashov  jumped  up,  and  thumped  his  fist,  like 
a  madman,  on  the  table. 

"  Be  silent  !  I  forbid  this,"  he  roared  in  a  voice 
trembling  with  anger  and  pain.  "  What  are  you 
laughing  at.  Captain  Osadchi  ?  You  ought  to  be 
ashamed.  Your  eyes  are  mocking,  but  I  see  and 
know  that  remorse,  terror,  and  the  tortures  of  hell 
are  raging  in  your  heart," 

A  hideous  silence  on  the  part  of  all  followed  this 
outbreak  of  temper.  Then  a  voice  from  the  crowd 
was  heard  to  exclaim — 

"  Is  he  drunk?" 

These  three  words  relaxed  all  the  terrible  tension 
of  the  situation  ;  but  at  the  same  moment  let  loose 
afresh — just  as  a  few  hours  previously  in  Schleyfer's 
den  of  infamy — all  the  evil  spirits  of  orgy.  There 
was  shrieking,  hooting,  stamping,  jumping,  and 
dancing  ;  the  whole  room  was  turned  in  a  trice  into 
an  indescribable,  savage,  motley  chaos.  Viatkin, 
who  jumped  on  to  a  table,  hit  his  head  against  the 
big  hanging  lamp,  which  then  swayed  in  awful 
zigzag  curves,  producing  for  some  time  a  fantastic 
series  of  dissolving  views  on  the  ceiling  and  walls,  on 
which  drunken,  frantic  human  beings  were  depicted 
as  marvellous,  gigantic  shapes,  or  as  huddled, 
dwarfish    figures    resembling    embryos. 

The  debauch  seemed  at  last  to  reach  its  height. 
All  these  wretched  creatures  were  possessed,  as  it 
were,  by  a  savage,  exultant,  ruthless  fiend  who, 
mocking  at  all  the  laws  of  sense  and  decency,  forced 
his  victims,  by  blasphemies,  oaths,  and  all  kinds  of 
shamelessness,  to  abdicate  the  last  shreds  of  their 
human  dignity. 


THE    DUEL  305 

Romashov,  in  the  smoke  and  stuffiness,  suddenly, 
caught  sight  of  a  person  with  features  distorted  by- 
rage  and  incessant  hooting,  which  for  that  reason 
seemed  to  him,  in  the  first  instant,  unrecognizable. 
It  was  none  other  than  Nikolaiev,  who,  now  foaming 
with  hate  and  fury,  roared  to  his  enemy  : 

"  You're  a  disgrace  to  the  whole  regiment,  you 
and  Nasanski  I     Not  a  word  or,  by  God  I  I'll " 

Romashov  felt  that  some  one  was  pulling  him, 
gently  and  cautiously,  a  few  paces  backwards.  He 
turned  round  and  recognized  Agamalov,  but  at  the 
same  instant  forgot  him,  and  turned  quickly  round' 
to  Nikolaiev.  White  With  suppressed  rage,  he 
answered  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice  and  a  forced  and 
bitter  smile — 

"  What  reason  have  you  to  mention  Nasanski 's 
name?  But  perhaps  you  have  some  private,  secret 
cause  for  hating  him?  " 

**  Rascal,  scoundrel,  your  hour  is  come  1  " 
screamed  Nikolaiev  in  a  loud,  trembling  voice. 
With  flashing  eyes  he  raised  his  tightly  clenched  fist 
to  Romashov 's  face,  but  the  exi>ected  blow  never 
fell.  Romashov  experienced  a  momentary  fear, 
together  with  a  torturing,  sickening  sensation  in 
his  chest  and  ribs,  and  he  now  noticed,  for  the  first 
time,  that  he  was  grasping  some  object  with  the 
fingers  of  his  right  hand.  Then  withj  a  rapid  move- 
ment he  threw  the  remains  of  his  half -emptied  glass 
of  ale  into  Nikolaiev 's  face. 

Instantly  after  this  a  violent  blow  in  the  region 
of  his  left  eye  struck  him  like  a  deafening  thunder- 
clap, and  with  the  howl  of  a  wounded  wild  beast, 
Romashov  rushed  at  his  foe.  A  heavy  fall,  and  the 
two  rolled  over  one  another  on  the  ground  with 
furious  blows  and  kicks.  A  thick  cloud  of  dust 
eddied  round  the  combatants  ;  chairs  and  tables  were 

20 


3o6  THE    DUEL 

flung  in  all  directions,  but  the  two  continued,  with 
unabated  fury,  to  force,  in  turn,  each  other's  head 
against  the  filthy  floor,  and  panting  and  with  rattling 
throats,  tried  to  tear  each  other  to  pieces .  Romashov 
knew  he  had  managed  somehow  or  other  to  get  his 
fingers  well  into  Nikolaiev's  mouth  at  one  of  the 
corners,  and  he  strove  with  all  his  might  to  rend 
Nikolaiev's  cheek,  with  the  object  of  destroying  those 
hateful  features  for  all  time.  He  himself,  however, 
felt  no  pain  when  his  head  and  elbows  were  bumped 
time  after  time,  in  the  course  of  the  fight,  against  the 
hard  floor. 

He  had  not  the  slightest  notion  as  to  how  the 
battle  finally  ended.  He  suddenly  found  himself 
standing  in  a  corner,  plucked  from  the  fight  by 
kindly  hands,  and,  by  the  same  well-meaning  heli>er, 
prevented  from  renewing  his  attack  on  Nikolaiev. 
Biek-Agamalov  handed  Romashov  a  glass  of  water, 
and  his  teeth  could  be  heard  chattering,  through 
the  convulsive  twitchings  of  his  lower  jaw,  against 
the  side  of  the  glass.  His  uniform  was  torn  to  tatters 
in  the  back  and  elbows,  and  one  shoulder-strap 
swung  hither  and  thither  on  its  torn  fastening. 
Romashov  was  unable  to  speak,  but  his  silent  lips 
moved  incessantly  in  fruitless  efforts  to  whisper 
audibly — 

"  I'll — show — him.      I    challenge    him." 

Old  Liech,  who  had  been  in  a  delightful  slumber 
at  the  edge  of  his  table  during  all  that  fearful 
row,  now  arose  fully  awake,  sober,  and  severe  in 
countenance,  and,  in  a  bitter  and  hectoring  tone 
rarely  employed  by  him,  said — 

"  Gentlemen,  in  my  capacity  as  the  eldest  here 
present,  I  order  you  all  to  leave  the  mess  instantly, 
and  to  go  to  your  respective  quarters.  A  report 
of   what   has    taken   place    here   to-night   is   to    be 


THE    DUEL  307 

handed  in  to  the  commander  of  the  regiment  to- 
morrow." 

The  order  was  obeyed  without  the  slightest  demur. 
All  departed,  cowed  and  shamefaced,  and  conse- 
quently shy  at  meeting  each  other's  glances.  Each 
individual  dreaded  to  read  in  his  comrade's  eyes  his 
own  shame  and  self -contempt,  and  they  all  gave 
one  the  impression  of  dirty  little  malicious  animals, 
to  whose  dim  and  undeveloj>ed  brains  a  gleam  of 
human  understanding  had  suddenly  managed  to 
grope  its  way. 

Day  began  to  dawn.  A  delightful,  glorious  morn- 
ing with  a  clear,  fleckless  sky,  refreshing  coolness, 
and  infinite  harmony  and  peace.  The  moist  trees, 
wrapped  in  thin,  curling  exhalations  arising  from  the 
earth,  and  scarcely  visible  to  the  eye,  had  just 
awakened  sUently  and  imperceptibly  from  their 
deep,  mysterious,  nocturnal  sleep.  And  when 
Romashov,  on  his  way  home,  glanced  at  them,  at 
the  sky,  and  at  the  grass  faintly  sparkling  like  silver 
in  the  dew,  he  felt  himself  so  low,  vile,  degenerate, 
and  disgusting  that  he  realized,  with  unutterable 
melancholy,  how  unworthy  he  was  to  be  greeted 
by  the  innocent,  smiling  child -eyes  of  awakening 
Nature. 


XX 


On  that  same  day — it  was  Wednesday — Romashov 
received  the  following  curt  official  communication — : 

The  Court  of  Honour  of  the  — th  Infantry  Regiment  hereby 
requests  Sub-lieutenant  Romashov  to  attend  at  6  p.m.  the  officers' 
common-room.    Dress  :  ordinary  uniform. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Migunov, 
President  of  the  Court. 

On  perusing  the  letter,  Romashov  could  not  re- 
strain an  ironical  smile.  This  so-called  "  ordinary 
uniform,"  i.e.  undress  uniform  with  shoulder-knots 
and  belt,  was  to  be  worn,  under  the  most  extraordi- 
nary circimistances,  before  the  Court,  for  public 
reprimand,  when  appearing  for  examination  by  the 
commander  of  his  regiment,  etc.,  etc. 

At  6  p.m.  Romashov  put  in  an  appearance  at  the 
mess,  and  told  the  orderly  to  send  in  his  name  to 
the  president.  The  answer  was  to  the  effect  that 
he  was  to  wait.  Romashov  sat  down  by  an  open 
window  in  the  dining-room',  took  up  a  paper  and 
began  to  read  ;  but  he  did  not  understand  a  word 
of  the  contents  :  everything  seemed  to  him  so  un- 
interesting as  he  cast  his  eyes  mechanically  down 
one  column  after  another.  Three  officers  who  were 
in  the  mess  before  Romashov  returned  his  salutation 
with  marked  coldness,  and  continued  their  conver- 
sation in  a  low  voice,  with  the  obvious  intention  of 

preventing  Romashov  from  catching  what  they  were 

308 


THE    DUEL  309 

saying.  Only  one  of  them,  Michin,  pressed  Romas - 
hov's  hand  long  and  warmly,  with  moist  eyes,  blush- 
ing and  tongue-tied.  He  at  once  turned  away,  put 
on  his  cloak  and  hat  hurriedly  and  awkwardly,  and 
ran  out  of  the  room. 

Nikolaiev  shortly  afterwards  entered  through  the 
buffet.  He  was  pale,  his  eyelids  were  of  a  bluish 
hue,  his  left  hand  was  shaking  with  spasmodic 
twitches,  and  just  below  his  temples  a  bluish  swell- 
ing was  visible.  At  once  the  recollection  of  the 
fight  on  the  previous  day  came  to  Romashov  with 
painful  distinctness.  He  hung  his  head,  frowned, 
and,  almost  annihilated  with  shame,  hid  himself 
behind  his  newspaper.  He  closed  his  eyes,  and 
listened  in  nervous  tension  to  every  sound  in  the 
room. 

Romashov  heard  Nikolaiev  order  a  glass  of 
cognac  from  the  waiter,  and  then  greet  one  of  the 
company.  After  that  he  walked  up  to  where  Romas- 
hov was  sitting,  and  passed  him  quite  closely. 
Somebody  left  the  room,  the  door  of  which  was 
shut  again.  A  few  seconds  later  Romashov  heard 
in  a  whispering  tone   behind  him — 

"  Don't  look  back.  Sit  stUl  and  listen  carefully 
to  what  I  have  to  say." 

It  was  Nikolaiev.  The  newspaper  shook  in 
Romashov's  hands. 

*'  As  you're  aware,  all  conversation  between  us  is 
now  forbidden  ;  but  damn  all  these  French  niceties. 
What  occurred  yesterday  can  never  be  put  straight 
again,  made  Uttle  of,  or  be  consigned  to  oblivion. 
In  spite  of  everything,  however,  I  regard  you  as 
a  man  of  conscience  and  honour.  I  implore  you — 
do  you  hear? — I  implore  you,  not  a  word  about 
my  wife  and  the  anonymous  letters.  You  under- 
stand me  ?. "  ! 


3IO  THE    DUEL 

Romashov,  who  was  hidden  by  the  newspaper 
from  the  eyes  of  his  brother  officer,  made  a  slow 
inclination  of  his  head.  The  sound  of  steps  crunch- 
ing the  sand  was  audible  from  the  courtyard. 
Romashov  allowed  a  few  minutes  to  elapse,  after 
which  he  turned  round  and  glanced  through  the 
window.     Nikolaiev  had  gone. 

"  Your  Honour  I  "  the  orderly  suddenly  stood,  as 
if  he  had  risen  from  the  earth,  at  Romashov's  side. 
"  I  am  ordered  to  ask  you  to  walk  in." 

Along  one  side  of  the  wall  were  placed  several 
card  tables,  over  which  a  green  cloth  had  been 
spread.  Behind  these  tables  sat  the  members  of 
the  court,  with  their  backs  to  the  window.  In  con- 
sequence of  this,  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish  their 
faces.  In  the  midst  of  them,  in  an  arm-chair, 
was  seated  Lieutenant -Colonel  Migunov,  the  presi- 
dent— a  fat,  pursy  man  without  a  neck,  but  with 
big,  round  shoulders  which  protruded  in  quite  an 
unnatural  manner.  On  each  side  of  Migunov  sat 
Lieutenant -Colonels  Rafalski  and  Liech,  and  more- 
over, on  the  right,  Osadchi  and  Peterson  ;  on  the 
left,  Captain  Duvernois  and  the  commissary  to  the 
regiment.  Staff -Captain  Doroshenko.  The  table  in 
front  of  all  these  gentlemen  was  virtually  empty, 
except  that  before  Doroshenko,  the  court  prosecutor - 
in -ordinary,  lay  a  heap  of  papers.  It  was  cold 
and  dark  in  the  great,  bare  room,  although  out-of- 
doors  the  sunshine  was  gloriously  warm .  Everywhere 
the  nose  was  assailed  by  a  drowsy  smell  of  mustiness 
and  rotting,  moth-eaten  furniture. 

The  president  laid  his  big,  white,  fat  hands  on 
the  tablecloth,  examined  them  minutely,  and  then 
began  in  a  dry,  official  tone — 

"  Sub -lieutenant  Romashov,  the  Officers'  Court  of 
Honour,  which  meets  to-day  by  order  of  the  com- 


THE    DUEL  311 

mander  of  the  regiment,  is  directed  to  examine 
closely  into  the  circumstances  of  the  deplorable  and, 
to  the  officers  as  a  body,  disgraceful  scene  that 
took  place  between  you  and  Lieutenant  Nikolaiev 
last  night,  and  it  is  incumbent  on  you  to  render  to 
us  a  most  punctilious  account  of  what  you  have 
to    say    with    regard    to    this    painful   affair." 

Romashov  stood  before  his  judges  with  his  arms 
hanging  down,  and  plucked  at  the  fur  lining  of 
his  cap.  He  felt  like  a  hunted  animal,  but  at  the 
same  time  as  clumsy,  feeble,  and  indifferent  to 
everything  as  a  schoolboy  just  "  ploughed  "  at  an 
examination  is  to  his  teachers*  threats  and  his  school- 
fellows' jeers.  Coughing  and  stammering,  in  un- 
connected phrases  and  with  contradictions  and 
repetitions,  Romashov  began  his  report.  At  the 
same  time,  and  whilst  slowly  observing  the  high 
"  tribunal  "  seated  before  him,  he  made  a  sort  of 
appraisement  of  the  private  or  personal  feelings  of 
its  individual  members  towards  him.  "  Migunov 
has  a  heart  of  stone,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  supreme 
indifference  to  him  how  the  affair  turns  out  ;  but 
the  place  of  honour  as  president  and  the  great 
responsibility  attached  to  it  are,  in  the  highest  de- 
gree, flattering  to  his  vanity.  Lieutenant -Colonel 
'  Brehm  '  is  looking  miserable.  Oh,  you  good  old 
chap,  perhaps  you  are  sitting  thinking  of  that  ten- 
rouble  note  which  was  never  returned  to  you  ?  Old 
Liech  looks  glum.  He's  sober  to-day  in  honour 
of  the  occasion,  but  the  pouches  under  his  eyes 
are  bigger  than  usual.  He's  not  my  enemy,  but 
has  so  many  sins  of  his  own  to  answer  that  he  must 
take  advantage  of  the  occasion,  and  play  the  part 
of  guardian  and  protector  of  morality  and  the 
*  honour  of  an  officer.'  So  far  as  Osadchi  and 
Peterson  are  concerned,   they  are  both   notoriously 


312  THE    DUEL 

my  enemies.  By  invoking  the  law,  I  might  cer- 
tainly challenge  Osadchi — the  whole  of  the  row 
began  through  his  blasphemously  parodying  the  Mass 
for  the  Dead — but  what  then  ?  The  result  in  any 
case  will  be  the  same.  Peterson  smiles  out  of  one 
corner  of  his  mouth  in  his  usual  snake -like  way. 
I  am  just  wondering  what  share  he  had  in  those 
anonymous  letters .  Duvernois — a  sleepy  beast,  whose 
great,  troubled  eyes  put  one  in  mind  of  a  cuttle- 
fish's. Ah,  yes,  I've  never  been  one  of  Duvernois's 
favourites,  and  just  as  little  of  Doroshenko's.  Yuri 
Alexievich,  my  dear  boy,  the  prospect  does  indeed 
look  gloomy  for  you." 

"  One  instant,  if  you  please,"  interrupted  Osadchi. 
**  President,  will  you  permit  me  to  put  a  ques- 
tion? " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Migunov,  with  a  gracious 
nod. 

"  Tell  me.  Sub-lieutenant  Romashov,"  began 
Osadchi,  in  an  affectedly  imposing  and  drawling 
tone,  "  where  were  you  before  you  came  to  the 
mess   in    such    an    inexcusable    condition?  " 

Romashov  blushed  deeply,  and  felt  big  drops 
of  sweat  on  his  forehead. 

"  I  was — I  was,"  he  stammered,  "  I  was  in  a 
brothel,"   he   added   almost   in   a   whisper. 

"  Ha,  ha — in  a  brothel,"  repeated  Osadchi,  as  he 
purposely  raised  his  voice  and  pronounced  every 
word  with  unsparing  distinctness.  **  And  no  doubt 
you  had  drinks  there." 

"  Yes,  I  had  been  drinking,"  answered  Romashov, 
in  an  abrupt  tone. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  put  any  more  questions," 
said  Osadchi,  turning  with  a  bow  to  the  president. 

"  Sub -lieutenant,  be  good  enough  to  continue 
your  report,"  resumed  Migunov,     "  You  remember 


THE    DUEL  313 

you  have  acknowledged  that  you  threw  the  glass 
of  ale  at  Nikolaiev — well  ?  " 

Romashov  began  his  story  again  as  unmethodi- 
cally and  unconnectedly  as  before,  but  honourably 
endeavouring  not  to  give  any  details.  He  had 
already,  in  an  indirect  way  and  with  much  shame, 
succeeded  in  (expressing  the  regret  he  felt  at  his 
unworthy  conduct,  when  he  was  once  more  inter- 
rupted, this  time  by  Captain  Peterson.  The  latter 
was  rubbing  his  long,  yellow-wax  coloured  hands 
with  their  sharp,  dirty  finger-nails  just  as  if  he 
were  washing  himself,  and  said  in  his  studiously 
polite — nay,  almost  friendly — thin,  wheedling  voice — 

'"  Ah,  all  that  is  quite  fit  and  proper,  and  such  a 
voluntary  confession,  in  a  way,  does  you  credit  ; 
but  tell  ,me,  were  you  not,  before  this  painful  story 
began,  in  the  habit  of  visiting  Lieutenant  Nikolaiev 's 
house?  " 

Romashov  drew  himself  up  and,  looking  straight, 
not  at  Captain  Peterson,  but  at  Mig^nov,  replied 
bluntly  : 

"  That  is  true,  but  I  cannot  understand  what 
that  has  to  do  with  the  matter." 

"  Pray  don't  get  excited,"  exclaimed  Peterson. 
"  I  only  want  you  to  answer  my  questions.  TeU 
me  then,  was  there  any  special  cause  of  mutual 
enmity  between  you  and  Lieutenant  Nikolaiev  ?  I 
do  not  mean  any  difference  in  the  service,  but  a 
cause  of  a  quite — er — if  I  may  so  put  it,  domestic 
nature?  " 

Romashov  pulled  himself  up  to  his  full  height, 
and  his  glance  pierced  with  undisguised  hatred  his 
enemy's  treacherous,  black,  consumptive  eyes. 

*'  I  have  not  visited  Lieutenant  Nikolaiev 's  home 
more  frequently  than  those  of  my  other  acquaint- 
ances," he  replied  in  a  hard  and  cutting  tone.    "  No 


314  THE    DUEL 

previous  enmity  has  existed  between  us.  The  whole 
thing  happened  unexpectedly  and  accidentally,  when 
we  were  both  the   worse  for  liquor." 

"  Heh,  heh,  heh,  we  have  already  heard  about 
the  insobriety,"  Captain  Peterson  chimed  in  ;  "  but 
I  will  ask  you  once  more,  had  not  an  unfriendly 
meeting  already  taken  place  between  you  and  Lieu- 
tenant Nikolaiev  ?  I  do  not  for  an  instant  suggest 
that  you  had  quarrelled  or  come  to  blows,  but  quite 
simply  that — how  shall  I  put  it? — you  were  a  little 
at  variance  in  your  views  of  certain  scandalou'sl 
reports  and  intrigues?  " 

"  President,  am!  I  bound  to  reply  to  all  questions 
that  are  put  to  me?  "    exclaimed  Romashov. 

"  That  rests  entirely  with  you,"  replied  Migunov 
coldly.  "  You  can,  if  you  wish,  absolutely  refuse 
to  answer.  You  can  also  commit  your  answer  to 
writing.     That  is   your   privilege." 

"  In  such  case  I  hereby  declare  that  I  will  not 
answer  any  of  Captain  Peterson's  questions,  and 
that  not  only  in  my  interest  but  in  his." 

After  Romashov  had  answered  a  few  questions 
of  minor  importance  the  examination  was  declared 
closed.  Nevertheless,  he  had  on  two  occasions  to 
give  the  court  supplementary  information,  first  in 
the  evening  of  the  same  day,  and  then  again  on  the 
day  following,  viz.,  Thursday  morning.  However 
careless  and  inexperienced  Romashov  might  be  in 
all  the  practical  circumstances  of  life,  he  neverthe- 
less saw  soon  enough  that  the  court  was  performing 
its  functions  in  the  most  negligent  and  indiscreet 
way,  and  had  therefore  been  guilty,  not  only  of  a 
revolting  lack  of  tact,  but  also  of  utter  ille- 
gality. In  defiance  of  Section  149  of  the  "  Statute 
concerning  Discipline,"  by  which  every  communica- 
tion to  unauthorized  persons  of  what  takes  place  at 


THE    DUEL  315 

such  examinations  is  in  plain  language  strictly 
forbidden,  the  members  of  the  "  Court  of  Honour  " 
did  not  scruple  to  relate  everything  straight  off  to 
their  wives  and  relations.  The  latter  spread  the 
scandal  stiU.  further  among  the  other  ladies  of 
"  Society,"  who  in  their  turn  discussed  the  matter 
with  their  maidservants,  charwomen,  etc.  Before 
twenty -four  hours  had  elapsed  Romashov  was  the 
talk  of  the  entire  town  and  "  hero  of  the  day." 
When  he  passed  along  the  street  he  was  gazed  at 
from  windows  and  doors,  between  the  hedge -posts 
of  backyards,  and  from  the  vantage  of  garden - 
bushes  and  arbours.  Women  from  a  good  distance 
off  pointed  at  him  with  their  finger,  and  he  often 
heard  his  name  whispered  behind  his  back.  No- 
body in  the  town  doubted  that  a  duel  between  him 
and  Nikolaiev  was  inevitable — nay,  they  even  began 
to  bet  about  the  upshot  of  it. 

As  Romashov  was  passing  Lykatschev's  house  on 
Thursday  morning  he  suddenly  heard  his  name 
shouted. 

"  Yuri  Alexievich,  Yuri  Alexievich,   come  here." 

Romashov  stopped,  and  soon  discovered  Katya 
Lykatschev  standing  on  a  bench  inside  the  fence. 
She  was  still  in  morning  dress,  which  chiefly  con- 
sisted of  a  kimono,  the  triangular  arrangement  of 
which  in  front  left  the  delicate  virginal  neck  wholly 
exposed.  And  she  was  altogether  so  fresh  and 
rosy  that  for  an  instant  Romashov  even  felt  light 
at  heart. 

Katya  leant  over  the  fence  to  enable  Romashov  to 
reach  her  hand,  which  was  stiU  cool  and  moist  from 
the  morning  bath.  She  began  at  once  to  chatter  and 
Usp  at  her  usual  pace  : 

"  Where  have  you  been  all  this  time?  You  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  forgetting  your  friends  m 


3i6  THE    DUEL 

that  way  !  Zo/,  zol,  20/— hush  I  I  have  long  known 
everything,  everything."  She  stared  at  Romashov 
with  great  terror-stricken  eyes.  "  Take  this  and 
hang  it  round  your  throat.  Hear  and  obey  at  once. 
Look,  if  you  please." 

From  the  fold  of  her  kimono,  straight  from  her 
bosom,  she  drew  out  an  amulet  that  hung  by  a  silk 
cord,  and  shyly  put  it  into  Romashov's  hand.  The 
amulet  still  felt  balmy  from  its  nest  against  the  young 
woman's    warm    body. 

"Will  it  help?"  asked  Romashov,  in  a  jesting 
tone.     "What  is  it?" 

"  That's  a  secret,  and  don't  you  dare  to  laugh,  you 
ungodly  creature.    Zoi,  zol!  " 

"  Hang  it,  if  I'm  not  beginning  to  be  a  man  of 
note,"  thought  Romashov,  as  he  said  good-bye  to 
Katya.  "  Splendid  girl  1  "  But  he  could  not  prevent 
himself,  though  it  might  be  for  the  last  time,  from 
thinking   of    himself    in    the    third    person  :- 

"  And  over  the  old  warrior's  rugged  features  stole 
a  melancholy  smile." 

On  that  same  evening  he  and  Nikolaiev  were 
again  summoned  to  the  Court.  The  two  enemies 
stood  before  the  green  table  almost  side  by  side. 
They  did  not  once  look  at  each  other,  but  they 
equally  felt  each  other's  high-strung  emotion,  and 
were,  in  consequence,  stiU  more  excited.  Their  eyes 
were  fixed,  as  though  by  magnetism,  on  the 
president's  face  when  he  at  last  began  to  fead  the 
verdict  of  the  Court. 

"  The  members  of  the  Officers'  Court  of  Honour 
of  the  — th  Regiment  "  (here  followed  their 
Chri^stian  and  surnames  in  fuU),  "  under  the 
presidency  of  Lieutenant- Colonel  Migunov,  have 
inquired  into  the  matter  of  the  fight,  in  the  mess, 
between    Lieutenant    Nikolaiev    and    Sub-lieutenant 


THE    DUEL  317 

Romashov,  and  the  Court,  by  reason  of  the 
serious  nature  of  the  case,  finds  a  duel  is  necessary 
t»  satisfy  the  wounded  honour  of  the  regiment. 
This  decree  of  the  Court  is  ratified  by  the 
commander  of  the  regiment." 

Lieutenant -Colonel  Migunov  took  off  his  spec- 
tacles,  and   replaced  them   in  their   case. 

"It  is  incumbent  on  you,  gentlemen,"  he  went 
on  to  say  in  a  sepulchral  voice,  "  to  choose  two 
seconds  apiece,  who  are  to  meet  here  at  9  p.m.  to 
agree  as  to  the  conditions  of  the  duel.  Moreover," 
added  Migimov,  as  he  got  up  and  put  his  spectacle- 
case  in  his  back-pocket,  "  moreover,  I  must  teU 
you  that  the  verdict  just  read  possesses  only  ja 
conditionally  binding  force  on  you,  viz.  it  rests  in 
your  free  discretion  either  to  submit  to  the  decree 
of  the  Court  or  " — Migunov  paused  land  made  a 
gesture  by  which  he  meant  to  express  his  absolute 
indifference — "  leave  the  regiment.  You  ought, 
gentlemen,  to  keep  apart.  However,  one  thing 
more.  Not  in  my  capacity  as  president  of  the  Court, 
but  as  an  old  comrade,  I  must  advise  you,  gentlemen, 
for  the  avoidance  of  further  unpleasantness  and 
complications  prior  to  the  duel,  not  to  visit  the  mess. 
Au  re  voir.'' 

Nikolai ev  made  a  sharp,  military  "  Face-about," 
and  walked  with  rapid  steps  out  of  the  room. 
Romashov  followed  slowly  after.  He  had  no  fear, 
but  he  felt  at  once  utterly  lonely,  abandoned,  and 
shut  off  from  the  entire  world.  When  he  reached 
the  steps  he  gazed  for  some  time,  calm  and  aston- 
ished, at  the  sky,  the  trees,  a  cow  grazing  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fen,ce,  the  sparrows  burrowing  in 
the  high  road,  and  thought,  "  S.o  everything  lives, 
struggles,  and  worries  about  its  existence,  except 
myself.     I  require  nothing  and  I  have  no  interests. 


3i8  THE    DUEL 

I  am  doomed  ;  I  am  alone,  and  dead  already  to 
this  world." 

With  a  feeling  of  sickness  and  disgust  he  went  to 
find  Biek-Agamalov  and  Viatkin,  whom  he  had 
chosen  for  his  seconds.  Both  granted  his  request  ; 
Biek-Agamalov  with  a  gloomy,  solemn  countenance, 
Viatkin  with  many  hearty  handshakes. 

It  was  impossible  for  Romashov  to  return  home. 

Never  had  the  thought  of  his  uncomfortable  abode 
seemed  so  repulsive  to  him  as  at  the  present 
moment.  In  these  gloomy  hours  of  spiritual  depres- 
sion, abandonment,  and  weariness  of  life,  he  needed 
a  trusty,  intelligent,  and  sympathetic  friend — a  man 
wit:h  brains  and  heart. 

Then  he  thought  of  Nasanski . 


XXI 

Nasanski  was,  as  always,  at  home.  He  had  only 
just  awakened  from  a  heavy  sleep  following  intoxi- 
cation, and  was  lying  on  his  back  with  only  his 
underclothing  on  and  his  hands  under  his  head. 
In  his  troubled  eyes  might  be  read  sickness  of  life 
and  physical  weariness.  His  face  had  not  yet  lost 
its  sleepy  and  lifeless  expression  when  Romashov, 
stooping  over  his  friend,  said  in  a  troubled  and  un- 
certain voice — 

"  Good-day,  Vasili  Nilich.  Perhaps  I  have  come 
at  an  inconvenient  time?  " 

"  Good-day,"  replied  Nasanski,  in  a  hoarse  and 
weak  voice.      "Any  news?     Sit  down." 

He  offered  Romashov  his  hot,  clammy  hand,  but 
looked  at  him,  not  as  at  a  dear  and  ever-welcome 
friend,  but  as  it  were  a  troublous  dream-picture 
that  stiU  lingered  after  his  drunken  sleep. 

"Aren't  you  well?"  asked  Romashov  shyly,  as 
he  threw  himself  down  on  the  corner  of  the  bed. 
"  In  that  case  I'll  go  at  once,  I  won't  disturb  you." 

Nasanski  lifted  his  head  a  couple  of  inches  from 
the  pijlow,  and  by  an  effort  he  peered,  with  deeply 
puckered  forehead,  at  Romashov. 

"  No — wait.  Oh,  how  my  head  aches  I  Listen, 
Georgi  Alexievich.  I  see  that  something  unusual 
has  happened.  If  I  'oould  only  collect  my  thoughts  1 
What  is  it?" 

Romashov     looked     at     him     with     silent     pity. 

319 


320  THE    DUEL 

Nasanski's  whole  appearance  had  undergone  a 
terrible  change  since  the  two  friends  had  last  seen 
each  other.  His  eyes  were  sunken  and  surrounded 
by  black  rings  ;  his  temples  had  a  yellow  hue  ;  the 
rough,  wrinkled  skin  over  his  cheek-bones  hung 
limply  down,  and  was  partly  concealed  by  the  sticky, 
wet   tufts   of  hair   that   drooped. 

"  Nothihg  particular.  I  only  wanted  to  see  you. 
To-morrow  I  am  to  fight  a  duel  w^th  Nikolaiev, 
and  I  was  loath  to  go  home.  But  fiothxng  matters 
now.  Au  revoir.  You  see — I  had  nobody  else 
to  talk  to  and  my  heart  is   heavy." 

Nasanski  closed  his  eyes,  and  his  features  made 
a  still  more  painful  impression.  It  was  evident  that 
he  had,  by  a  really  abnormal  effort  of  will,  tried  to 
recover  consciousness,  and  now,  when  he  opened  his 
eyes,  a  spark  of  keen  understanding  was  at  last 
visible  in  his  glance. 

"WeU,    well,    I'll   tell    you    what    we'll    do " 

Nasanski  turned  on  his  side  by  an  effort  and 
raised  himself  on  his  elbow.     "  But  first  give  me — 

out  of  the  cupboard,  you  know^ No,  let  the  apples 

be — ^there  should  be  a  few  peppermint  drops — thanks, 

my     friend.       I'll     tell     you     what     we'll     do^ 

Faugh,  how  disgusting  I  Take  me  out  into  the  fresh 
air.  Here  it's  intolerable.  Always  the  same  hideous 
hallucinations.  Come  with  me  ;  we'll  get  a  boat, 
then  we  can  chat.     Will  you?  " 

With  a  stern  face,  and  an  expression  of  utter 
loathing  on  his  countenance,  he  drained  glass  after 
glass.  Romashov  observed  Nasanski's  ashy  com- 
plexion gradually  assume  a  deeper  hue,  and  his 
beautiful  blue  eyes  regain  life  and  brilliancy. 

When  they  reached  the  street  they  took  a  fly  and 
drove  to  the  river  flowing  past  the  very  outskirts  of 
the  town,  which  there  swells  out  to  a  dam,  on  one 


THE    DUEL  321 

side  of  which  stood  a  mill  driven  by  turbines,  an 
enormous  red  building  belonging  to  a  Jew.  On 
the  other  shore  stood  a  few  bathing-houses,  and 
there,  too,  boats  might  be  hired.  Romashov  sat  by 
the  oars,  and  Nasanski  assumed  a  half-recumbent 
position  in  the  stem. 

The  river  was  very  broad  here,  the  stream  weak, 
the  banks  low  and  overgrown  with  long,  juicy  grass 
that  hung  down  over  the  water^  and  out  of  it  rose 
tall  green  reeds  arid  masses  of  big,  white  water-lilies. 

Romashov  related  the  particulars  of  his  fight  with 
Nikolaiev.  Nasanslci  listened  abstractedly  and  gazed 
down  at  the  river,  which  in  lazy,  sluggish  eddies 
flowed  away  like  molten  glass  in  the  wake  of  the 
boat. 

*-  TeU  me  candidly,  Romashov,  have  you  any 
fear?"   asked   Nasanski,   in   a  low   voice. 

"Of  the  duel?  No,  I'm  not  afraid  of  that,'* 
replied  Romashov  irritably,  but  he  became  abruptly 
silent,  whilst,  in  the  flash  of  a  second,  he  saw  himself 
standing  face  to  face  with  Nikolaiev,  and  with 
hypnotized  eyes  gazing  at  the  black,  threatening 
muzzle  of  his  revolver.  "  No,  no,"  added  Romas- 
hov hastily,  "  I  will  not  lie  and  boast  that  I'm  not 
afraid.  On  the  contrary,  I  think  it  terrible  ;  but  I 
also  know  that  I  shall  not  behave  like  a  coward^ 
and  that  I  shall  never  apologize." 

Nasanski  dipped  the  tips  of  his  fing'ers  in  the 
softly  rippling  water,  warm  with  the  evening  glow, 
and  said  slowly,  in  a  weak  voice  often  interrupted 
by  coughing  : 

"  Ah,  my  friend,  my  dear  Romashov,  why  wiU  you 
do  this  thing?  Only  think  if  what  you  say  is  true, 
and  you  are  not  a  coward.  Why  not  then  show  your 
moral  courage  in  a  stiU  higher  degree  by  refusing  to 
fight  this  duel  ?  " 

31 


322  THE    DUEL 

"  He  has  insulted  me,  struck  me-ron  the  face," 
replied  Romashov,  with  newly  kindled,  burning  in- 
dignation. 

"  Well,  admitting  that,"  resumed  Nasanski  gently, 
with  his  tender,  sorrowful  eyes  fixed  on  Romas- 
hov, "what  does  that  signify?  Time  heals  all 
wounds  ;  everything  in  the  world  is  buried  and 
disappears,  even  the  recollection  of  this  scandal. 
You  yourself  will  in  time  forget  both  your  hatred  and 
your  sufferings  ;  but  you'U  never  forget  a  man  you 
have  killed.  He  will  stand  ever  at  your  side,  at  the 
head  of  your  bed,  at  your  dinner-table,  when  you 
are  alone,  and  when  you  axe  amidst  the  bustle  of  the 
world.  Empty-heads,  idiots,  pretentious  imitators 
and  parrots  wDl,  of  course,  at  all  times  solemnly 
assure  you  that  a  murder  in  the  course  of  a  duel  is 
no  murder.  What  madmen  !  No,  a  murder  is, 
and  always  will  be,  a  murder.  And  the  most 
horrible  thing  about  it  is  not  in  death  and  suffering, 
in  pools  of  blood  or  in  corpses,  but  inasmuch 
as  it  deprives  a  human  being  of  the  joys  of  life. 
Oh,  how  priceless  is  life  I  "  exclaimed  Nasanski 
suddenly,  in  a  high  voice  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 
"  Who  do  you  suppose  believes  in  the  reality  of  an 
existence  after  this  one  ?  Not  you,  or  I,  or  any  other 
man  of  sound  reason.  Therefore  death  is  feared  by 
all.  Only  half-demented,  ecstatic  barbarians  or  '  the 
foolish  in  the  Lord  '  allow  themselves  to  be  deluded 
into  the  notion  that  they  wiU  be  greeted  on  the  other 
side  of  the  grave,  in  the  garden  of  Paradise,  by  the 
beatific  hymns  of  celestial  eunuchs.  Moreover,  we 
have  those  who,  silently  despising  such  old  wives' 
fables  and  puerilities,  cross  the  threshold  of  death. 
Others  again  picture  the  empire  of  the  grave  as  a 
cold,  dark,  bare  room.  No,  my  friend,  there  is 
no  such  future  state.     In  death  there  is  neither 


THE    DUEL  323 

cold,  nor  darkness,  nor  space,  nor  even  fear — ^nothing 
but   absolute   annihilation." 

Romashov  shipped  his  oars,  and  it  was  only  by, 
observing  the  green  shore  gently  stealing  by  that 
one  could  tell  that  the  boat  was  moving  onwards. 

"  Yes — annihilation,"  Romashov  repeated  slowly, 
in  a  dreamy  tone. 

"  But  why  cudgel  your  brains  over  this  ?  Gaze 
instead  at  the  living  landscape  around  you.  How 
exquisite  is  life  I  "  shouted  Nasanski,  with  a  power- 
ful and  eloquent  gesture.  "  Oh,  thou  beauty  of  the 
Godhead — thou  infinite  beauty  !  Look  at  this  blue 
sky,  this  calm  and  silent  water,  and  you  will  tremble 
with  joy  and  rapture.  Look  at  yon  water-mill  far 
in  the  distance,  softly  moving  its  sails.  Look  at 
the  fresh  verdure  of  the  bank  and  the  mischievous 
play  of  the  sunbeams  on  the  water.  How  wonder- 
fully lovely  and  peaceful  is  all  this  I  "  Nasanski 
suddenly  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  burst  out 
weeping-;  but  he  recovered  his  self-possession  im- 
mediately, and,  without  any  shame  for  his  tears,  he 
went  on  to  say,  while  looking  at  Romashov  with 
moist,   glistening   eyes  : 

"  No,  even  if  I  were  to  fall  under  the  railway, 
train,  and  were  left  lying  on  the  line  with  broken 
and  bleeding  limbs,  and  any  one  were  to  ask  me  if 
life  were  beautiful,  I  should  none  the  less,  and  even 
by  summoning  my  last  remains  of  strength,  answer 
enthusiastically,  '  Ah,  yes,  even  now  life  is  glorious.' 
How  much  joy  does  not  sight  alone  give  us,  and  so, 
too,  music,  the  scent  of  flowers,  and  woman's  love? 
And  then  the  human  understanding  :  thought  which 
alone  is  our  life's  golden  sun — the  eternal  source 
of  noble  pleasure  and  imperishable  bliss,  Yurochka 
— pardon  me  calling  you  so,  my  friend  " — Nasanski 
held  out  his  trembling  hand  to  Romashov  as  though 


324  THE    DUEL 

entreating  forgiveness — "  suppose  you  were  shut  Vip 
in  prison,  and  you  were  doomed  all  your  life  to  stare 
at  crumbling  bricks  of  the  wall  of  your  cell — no, 
let  us  suppose  that  in  your  prison  dungeon  there 
never  penetrated  a  ray  of  light  or  a  sound  from  the 
outer  world.  Well,  what  more?  What  would  that 
be  in  comparison  with  all  the  mysterious  terrors  of 
death?  Yet  if  thought,  memory,  imagination,  the 
spirit's  faculty  of  creation  remained,  you  would  not 
only  be  able  to  live,  but  even  find  moments  of 
enthusiasm  and  the  joy  of  life." 

"  Yes,  life  is  priceless,"  exclaimed  Romashov, 
interrupting  him. 

"  It's  magnificent,"  Nasanski  went  on  to  say  hotly, 
"  yet  people  wish  two  rational  creatures  to  kill  each 
other  for  a  woman's  sake,  or  to  re-establish  their 
so-called  honour  !  But  who  is  it  then  he  kills  ? — 
this  miserable  living  clod  of  earth  that  arrogates  to 
himself  the  proud  name  of  man?  Is  it  himself  or 
his  neighbour  ?  No,  he  kills  the  gracious  warmth 
and  lifegiving  sun,  the  bright  sky,  and  all  nature 
with  its  infinite  beauty  and  charm.  He  kills  that 
which  never,  never,  never  will  return.  Oh,  what 
madmen  I  " 

Nasanski  ceased,  shook  his  head  sorrowfully,  and 
collapsed.  The  boat  glided  into  the  reeds.  Romas- 
hov again  took  the  oars.  High,  hard,  green  stalks 
bowed  slowly  and  gravely,  gently  scraping  the  boat's 
gunwale.  Amid  the  tall  rushes  there  was  shade 
and  coolness. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  asked  Romashov,  scowling 
and  angry.  "Shall  I  enter  the  reserves?  Where 
shall  I  go?" 

Nasanski  looked  at  him  with  a  gentle   smile. 

"  Listen,  Romashov,  and  look  tne  straight  in  the 
face— that's  right.     No,  don't  turn  away,  look  at  me. 


THE    DUEL  325 

and  answer  on  your  honour  and  conscience.  Do  you 
really  think  that  you  are  now  serving  any  good, 
useful,  and  reasonable  purposes  ?  I  know  you  much 
better  than  all  the  rest — yes,  I  know  your  inmost 
soul,  and  I  know  you  do  not  think  so." 

"  No,"  replied  Romashov,  in  a  firm  voice,  **  you 
are   right.      But   what   will   become   of   me?" 

"  Well,  be  calm.  Only  look  at  our  officers.  Oh, 
I'm  not  talking  now  of  the  fops  of  the  Emperor's 
lifeguards  who  dance  at  the  Court  balls,  talk  French, 
and  are  kept  by  their  parents  or  by  their  more  or 
less  lawful  wives.  No,  I'm  thinking  of  ourselves 
— poor  officers  in  the  line  who,  nevertheless,  con- 
stitute the  very  '  pick  '  of  the  irresistible  and  glorious 
Russian  Army.  What  are  we?  Well,  mere  fag- 
ends — le  beau  reste,  despised  pariahs.;  at  best  the 
sons  of  poor,  poverty-stricken  infantry  Captains, 
ruined  in  body  and  soul,  but  for,  by  far,  the  most 
part  consisting  of  collegians,  seminarists,  etc.,  who 
have  failed.  Look,  for  instance,  at  our  regiment. 
What  are  they  who  remain  for  any  time  in  the 
service?  Poor  devils  burdened  with  large  families, 
veritable  beggars  ready  for  every  villainy  and  cruelty 
— ah,  even  for  murder — and  are  not  even  ashamed 
of  abstracting  the  poor  soldier's  scanty  pay  so  that, 
at  any  rate,  cabbage  soup  may  not  be  lacking  on 
their  table  at  home.  Such  an  individual  is  com- 
manded to  shoot .  Whom  ?  And  for  what  ?  It  is 
all  the  same  to  him.  He  only  knows  that  at  home 
there  are  hungry  mouths,  dirty,  scrofulous,  rickety 
children,  and  with  dull  countenance  he  splutters, 
like  another  woodpecker,  his  eternal,  unvarying 
answer,  *  My  oath.'  And  if  there's  a  spark  of  ability 
or  talent  in  any  one,  it  is  extinguished  in  schnapps. 
Seventy-five  per  cent,  of  our  officers  are  diseased 
through  vice.     If  any  one  in  the  regiment  happens 


326  THE    DUEL 

to  scrape  through  his  entrance  examination  for  the 
Staff  College — which,  by  the  way,  hardly  happens 
with  us  once  in  five  years — he  is  pursued  by  hatred. 
The  most  servile  and  fawning  individuals,  or  those 
who  have  managed  to  obtain  a  little  patronage,  as 
a  rule,  get  into  the  police  or  gendarmes.  Should 
they  have  in  their  veins  a  few  drops  of  noble  blood, 
they  may  perhaps  get  a  circuit-judgeship  in  the 
country.  Let  us  suppose  that  a  man  of  education, 
fine  feeling,  and  heart  is  forced  to  remain  in  the 
regiment.  What  do  you  suppose  is  his  fate?  To 
him  the  service  is  an  intolerable  yoke  anjd  a  perpetual 
source  of  humiliation,  suffering,  and  self -contempt. 
Every  one  tries  to  procure  an  occupation  of  another 
sort  which  soon  entirely  engrosses  him.  jOne  is 
seized  with  a  tnania  for  collecting  ;  another  watches 
impatiently  for  the  evening  so  that  he  may,  with 
great  trouble  and  waste  of  time,  embroider  small 
crosses  and  other  gewgaws  for  an  absolutely  un- 
necessary ornamental  mat.  A  third  fills  his  life  by 
the  help  of  a  little  metal  saw,  and  produces  at  last 
an  exquisite,  perforated  frame  for  his  own  portrait. 
And  the  thought  of  all  this  absurd  and  worthless 
work  secretly  occupies  their  minds  during  the  in- 
sufferable hours  of  drill.  Cards,  drinking-bouts, 
disgusting  swagger  about  the  favours  women  have 
bestowed  on  them — all  this  I  might  be  able  to  pass 
over  in  silence.  The  most  jrepulsive  thing,  how- 
ever, is  the  cruel  eagerness,  conspicuous  in  so  many 
officers,  to  gain  a  name  as  martinets  and  brutes  to 
their  men,  as,  for  instance,  Osadchi  and  Company, 
who  with  impunity  knock  out  the  teeth  and  eyes  of 
their  young  recruits.  Perhaps  you  are  not  aware 
that  Artschakovski  so  maltreated  his  servant  in  my 
presence  that  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  help  the  victim 
away  alive.    Blood  splashed  over  the  floor  and  walls. 


THE    DUEL  327 

Well,  how  do  you  think  the  affair  ended  ?  You  shall 
hear.  The  soldier  complained  to  the  Captain  of 
his  company  ;  the  latter  sent  him  with  a  sealed  order 
to  the  pay-sergeant,  who,  in  strict  obedience  to  his 
superior's  orders,  further  belaboured  with  his  fists 
the  soldier's  swollen  and  bleeding  face  for  the 
space  of  half  an  hour.  The  same  soldier  com- 
plained twice  at  the  General  Inspection,  but  without 
redress." 

Nasanski  stopped  and  began  nervously  rubbing 
his  temples  with  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"  Wait,"  he  went  on  to  say.  "  Ah,  how  one's 
thoughts  fly  !  Isn't  it  an  unpleasant  sensation  to 
know  that  our  thoughts  lead  us,  and  not  we  our 
thoughts  ?  Well,  to  resume  what  we  were  talking 
about.  Among  our  senior  remaining  officers  we 
have  also  other  types,  for  instance.  Captain  Plavski. 
On  his  petroleum  stove  he  cooks  his  own  beastly 
food,  goes  about  in  rags,  and,  out  of  his  monthly 
forty-eight  roubles  twelve  times  a  year,  he  puts 
twenty-five  in  the  bank,  where  he  has  a  sum  of  2,000 
roubles  on  deposit,  which  he  lends  to  his  brother 
officers  at  an  outrageously  usurious  rate  of  interest. 
And  you  think,  perhaps,  that  this  is  innate  or  in- 
herited greed  ?  Certainly  not  ;  it  is  only  a  means  of 
filling  up  the  soul-destroying  hours  of  garrison 
service.  Then  we  have  Captain  Stelikovski,  a  strong, 
able,  talented  man.  Of  what  does  his  life  consist? 
Oh,  in  seducing  young,  inexperienced  peasant  girls. 
Finally,  our  famous  oddity,  Lieutenant- Colonel 
'  Brehm.'  A  good-natured,  kindly  ass — a  thoroughly 
good  fellow,  who  has  but  one  interest  in  life — the 
care  of  his  animals.  What  to  him  signify  the 
service,  the  colours,  the  parades,  censures  of  his 
superiors,  or  the  honoiu:  of  the  warrior?  Less  than 
nothing." 


328  THE    DUEL 

"  '  Brehm  '  is  a  fine  fellow.  I  like  him,"  in- 
terrupted Romashov. 

"  He  certainly  is  that,  my  friend,"  Nasanski 
admitted  in  a  weary  tone,  "  and  yet,"  he  went  on  to 
say  with  a  lowering!  countenance,  *'  if  you  knew 
what  I  once  saw  at  the  manoeuvres.  After  a  night 
march  we  were  directly  afterwards  to  advance  to 
attack.  Both  officers  and  men  were  utterly  done  up. 
*  Brehm  '  was  in  command,  and  ordered  the  buglers 
to  sound  the  charge,  but  the  latter,  goodness  knows 
why,  signalled  the  reserve  to  advance.  *  Brehm  ' 
repeated  his  order  once,  twice,  thrice,  but  in  vain  ; 
the  result  was  the  same.  Then  our  excellent,  kind- 
hearted  *  Brehm  '  gallops  up  to  the  unsuspecting" 
bugler,  and  bangs  his  fist,  with  all  his  force,  against 
the  bell  of  the  trumpet.  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes 
the  trumpeter  spitting  out  blood  and  broken  teeth." 

"  Oh,  my  God  I  "  groaned  Romashov  in  disgust. 

"  Yes,  they  are  all  alike,  even  the  best  and  most 
tender-hearted  among  them.  At  home  they  are 
splendid  fathers  of  families  and  excellent  husbands  ; 
but  as  soon  as  they  approach  the  barracks  they 
become  low-minded,  cowardly,  and  idiotic  bar- 
barians. You  ask  me  why  this  is,  and  I  answer  : 
Because  nobody  can  find  a  grain  of  sense  in  what  is 
called  military  service.  You  know  how  all  children 
like  to  play  at  war.  Well,  the  human  race  has  had 
its  childhood — a  time  of  incessant  and  bloody  war ; 
but  war  was  not  then  one  of  the  scourges  of  man- 
kind, but  a  continued,  savage,  exultant  national  feast 
to  which  daring  bands  of  youths  marched  forth;^ 
meeting  victory  or  death  with  joy  and  pleasure. 
The  bravest,  strongest,  and  most  cunning  was  chosen 
as  leader,  and  so  long  isls  success  attended  his  banner, 
he  was  almost  accorded  divine  worship,  until  at 
last  he  was  killed  by  his  subjects,  in  order  to  make 


THE    DUEL  329 

room  for  a  luckier  and  more  powerful  rival.  Man- 
kind, however,  grew  in  age  and  wisdom  ;  people 
got  weary  of  the  former  rowdy,  bloody  games,  and 
became  more  serious,  thoughtful,  and  cautious.  The 
old  Vikings  of  song  and  saga  were  designated  and 
treated  as  pirates.  The  soldier  no  longer  regarded 
war  as  a  bloody  but  enjoyable  occupation,  and  he 
had  often  to  be  dragged  to  the  enemy  with  a  noose 
round  his  neck.  The  former  terrifying,  ruthless, 
adored  atamens  have  been  changed  into  cowardly, 
cautious  chinovniks,^  who  get  along  painfully  enough 
on  never  adequate  pay.  Their  courage  is  inspired 
by  drink.  Military  discipline  still  exists,  but  it  is 
based  on  threats  and  dread,  and  undermined  by  a 
dull,  mutual  hatred.  To  make  a  long  story  short, 
the  whilom  fine,  proud  '  pheasants  '  are  of  faded  hue 
and  look  ruffled.  Only  one  more  parallel  resembling 
the  foregoing  can  I  adduce  from  universal  history, 
to  wit,  monasticism.  The  legend  of  its  origin  is 
touching  and  beautiful,  its  mission  was  peaceful, 
benevolent,  and  civilizing,  and  its  existence  most 
certainly  an  historic  necessity.  But  centuries  pass 
away,  and  what  do  we  see  now?  Hundreds  of 
thousands  of  imjx)stors,  idle,  licentious,  land  impudent, 
who  are  hated  and  despised  even  by  those  who 
think  they  need  their  religious  aid.  And  all  this 
abomination  is  carefully  hidden  under  a  close  veil  of 
tinsel  and  finery,  and  foolish,  empty  ceremonies,  in 
all  ages  the  charlatan's  conditio  sine  qua  non.  Is 
not  this  comparison  of  mine  between  the  monastic 
orders  and  the  military  caste  logical?  Here  the 
cassock  and  the  censer.;  there  the  gold-laced 
uniform  and  the  clank  of  arms.  Here  bigotry, 
hypocritical  humility,  sighs,  and  sugary,  sancti- 
monious,    tmmeaning    phrases:;     there    the    same 

'  Chinovnik,  Russian  word  for  official. 


330  THE    DUEL 

odious  affectations,  although  of  another  kind — 
swaggering  manners,  bold,  and  scornful  looks — 
'  God  help  the  man  who  dares  to  insult  me  !  ' — 
padded  shoulders,  cock-a-hoop  defiance.  Both  the 
former  and  the  latter  class  live  like  parasites  on 
society,  and  are  profoundly  conscious  of  that  fact, 
but  fear — especially  for  their  bellies'  sake — to  publish 
it.  And  both  remind  one  of  certain  little  blood- 
sucking animals  which  eat  their  way  most  obstin- 
ately into  the  surface  of  a  foreign  body  in  propor- 
tion as  it  is  decomposed." 

Nasanski  stopped  and  spat  with  withering  con- 
tempt. 

"  Go  on,  go  on,"  exclaimed  Romashov  eagerly. 

'*  But  other  times  are  coming,  indeed  have  come. 
Yes,  tremendous  surprises  and  changes  are  about 
to  take  place.  You  remember  my  saying  on  one 
occasion  that  for  a  thousand  years  there  has  existed 
a  genius  of  humanity  that  seldom  reveals  itself,  but 
whose  laws  are  as  inexorable  as  they  are  ruthless  ; 
but  the  wiser  men  become,  so  much  more  deeply 
do  they  penetrate  the  spirit  of  those  laws.  And 
I  am  convinced  that,  sooner  or  later,  everything  in 
this  world  must  be  brought  into  equilibrium  in 
accordance  with  these  immutable  laws.  Justice  will 
then  be  dispensed.  The  longer  and  more  cruel 
the  slavery  has  been,  so  much  more  terrible  will 
be  the  day  of  reckoning  for  tyrants.  The  greater 
the  violence,  injustice,  and  brutality,  so  much  more 
bloody  wlU  be  the  retribution.  Oh,  I  am  firmly 
convinced  that  the  day  wiU  dawn  when  we 
'  superior  officers,'  we  *  almighty  swells,'  darlings 
of  the  women,  drones  and  brainless  swaggerers,  will 
have  our  ears  boxed  with  impunity  in  streets  and 
lanes,  in  vestibules  and  corridors,  when  women  will 
turn  their  backs  on  us  in  contempt,  and  when  our 


THE    DUEL  331 

own  affectionate  soldiers  will  cease  to  obey  us.  And 
all  this  will  happen,  not  because  we  have  brutally 
ill-treated  men  deprived  of  every  possibility  of  self- 
defence  ;  not  because  we  have,  for  the  '  honour  ' 
of  the  uniform,  insulted  women  ;  not  because  we 
have  committed,  when  in  a  state  of  intoxication, 
scandalous  acts  in  public-houses  and  public  places  ; 
and  not  even  because  we,  the  privileged  lick -spittles 
of  the  State,  have,  in  innumerable  battlefields  and 
in  pretty  nearly  every  country,  covered  our  standards 
with  shame,  and  been  driven  by  our  own  soldiers 
out  of  the  maize-fields  in  which  we  had  taken  shelter. 
Well,  of  course,  we  shall  also  be  punished  for  that. 
No,  our  most  monstrous  and  unpardonable  sin  con- 
sists in  our  beipg  blind  and  deaf  to  everything. 
For  long,  long  period's  past — and,  naturally,  far  away 
from  our  polluted  garrisons — people  have  discerned 
the  dawn  of  a  new  life  resplendent  with  light  and 
freedom .  Far-seeing,  high-minded,  and  noble  spirits, 
free  from  prejudices  and  human  fear,  have  arisen 
to  sow  among  the  nations  burning  words  of  libera- 
tion and  enlightenment.  These  heroes  remind  one 
of  the  last  scene  in  a  melodrama,  when  the  dark 
castles  and  prison  towers  of  tyranny  fall  down  and 
are  buried,  in  order,  as  it  were,  by  magic,  to  be 
succeeded  by  freedom's  dazzling  hght  and  hailed 
by  exultant  throngs.  We  alone — crass  idiots, 
irredeemable  victims  of  pride  and  blindness — still 
stick  up  our  tail-feathers,  like  angry  turkey-cocks, 
and  yell  in  savage  wrath,  '  What  ?  Where  ?  Silence  1 
Obey  !  Shoot  !  '  etc.,  etc.  And  it's  just  this  turkey- 
cock's  contempt  for  the  fight  for  freedom  by 
awakening  humanity  that  shall  never,  never  be 
forgiven  us." 

The   boat    glided    gently    over   the    calm,    open, 
mirroring  surface  of  the  river,  which  was  garlanded 


332  THE    DUEL 

round  by  the  tall,  dark  green,  motionless  reeds. 
The  little  vessel  was,  as  it  were,  hidden  from  the 
whole  world.  Over  it  hovered,  now  and  then  utter- 
ing a  scream,  the  white  guUs,  occasionally  so  closely 
that,  as  they  almost  brushed  Romashov  with  the 
tips  of  their  wings,  they  made  him  feel  the  breeze 
arising  from  their  strong,  swift  flights.  Nasanski 
lay  on  his  back  in  the  stern  of  the  boat  and  kept 
staring,  for  a  long  time,  at  the  bright  sky,  where 
a  few  golden  clouds  sailing  gently  by  had  already 
begun  to  change  to  rose  colour. 

Romashov  said  in  a  shy  tone  : 

"  Are   you   tired?      Oh,    keep    on   talking." 

It  seemed  as  if  Nasanski  continued  to  think  and 
dream  aloud  when  he  once  m^ore  picked  up  the 
threads  of  his  monologue. 

"  Yes,  a  new,  glorious,  and  wonderful  time  is  ^.t 
haiid.  I  venture  to  say  this,  for  I  myself  have 
lived  a  good  deal  in  the  world,  read,  seen,  experi- 
enced, and  suffered  much.  Whep  I  was  a  schoolboy, 
the  old  crows  and  jackdaws  croaked  into  our  ears  : 
*  Love  your  neighbour  as  yourself,  and  know  that 
gentleness,  obedience,  and  the  fear  of  God  are  man's 
fairest  adornments.'  Then  came  certain  strong, 
honest,  fanatical  men  who  said  :  '  Come  and  join 
us,  and  we'll  throw  ourselves  into  the  abyss  so  that 
the  coming  race  shall  live  in  light  and  freedom.' 
But  I  never  understood  a  word  of  this.  Who  do 
you  suppose  is  going  to  show  me,  in  a  convincing 
way,  in  what  manner  I  am  linked  to  this  '  neigh- 
bour '  of  mine — damn  him  I  who,  you  know,  may 
be  a  miserable  slave,  a  Hottentot,  a  leper,  or  an 
idiot?  Of  all  the  holy  legends  there  is  none  which 
I  hate  and  despise  with  my  whole  soul  so  much  as 
that  of  John  the  Almoner.'     The  leper  says  :     '  I 

*  Ivan   Milostivni,  one  of   the  innumerable  saints  of  the  Greek 
Church. 


THE    DUEL  333 

am  shivering  with  cold  ;  lie  beside  me  in  my  bed 
and  warm  my  body  with  thy  limbs.  Lay  thy  lips 
close  to  my  fetid  mouth  and  breathe  on  me  I  *  Oh, 
how  disgusting- 1  How  I  hate  this  victim  of  leprosy, 
and,  for  the  matter  of  that,  also  all  other  similar 
choice  examples  of  my  '  neighbour.'  Can  any 
reasonable  being  tell  me  why  I  should  crush  my 
head  so  that  the  generation  in  the  year  3200  may 
attain  a  higher  standard  of  happiness  ?  Be  quiet  I 
I,  too,  once  upKjn  a  time,  sympathized  with  the 
silly,  babyish  cackle  about  '  the  world-soul,'  '  man's 
sacred  duty,'  etc.  But  even  if  these  high-falutin 
phrases  did  find  a  place  then  in  my  brain,  they  never 
forced  their  way  into  my  heart.  Do  you  foUow  me, 
Romashov?  " 

Romashov  looked  at  Nasanski  with  a  mixture  of 
gratitude  and  shame. 

"  I  understand  you  fully.  When  I  come  to  '  send 
in  my  checks  '  and  die,  then  the  universe  dies  with 
me.     That's   what   you   meant,    eh?  " 

"  Exactly,  but  listen  further.  Love  of  humanity 
is  burnt  out  and  has  vanished  from  the  heart  of 
man.  In  its  stead  shall  come  a  new  creed,  a  new 
view  of  life  that  shall  last  to  the  world's  end  ;  and 
this  view  of  Hfe  consists  in  the  individual's  love  for 
himself,  for  his  own  powerful  intelligence  and  the 
infinite  riches  of  his  feelings  and  perceptions .  Think, 
Romashov,  just  this  way  and  in  no  other.  Who  is 
nearer  and  dearer  to  me  than  myself  ?  No  one .  You, 
and  none  other,  are  the  Tsar  and  autocrat  of  your  own 
soul,  its  pride  and  ornament.  You  are  the  god  of  all 
that  lives.  To  you  alone  belongs  all  that  you  see, 
hear,  and  feel.  Take  what  you  want  and  do  what  you 
please.  Fear  nobody  and  nothing,  for  there  is  no 
one  in  the  whole  universe  above  you  or  can  even 
be  your  rival.     Ah,  a  time  wiU  come  when  the  fixed 


334  THE    DUEL 

belief  in  one's  own  Ego  will  cast  its  blessed  beams 
over  mankind  as  'did  once  the  fiery  tongues  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  over  the  Apostles'  heads.  Then 
there  will  be  no  longer  slaves  and  masters  ;  no 
maimed  or  cripples  ;  tio  maUce,  no  vices,  no  pity, 
no  hate.  Men  will  be  gods.  How  shall  I  dare 
to  deceive,  insult,  or  ill-treat  another  man,  in  whom 
I  see  and  feel  my  fellow,  who,  like  myself,  is  a 
god?  Then,  and  then  only,  shall  life  be  rich  and 
beautiful.  Over  the  whole  habitable  portion  of  our 
earth  shall  tall,  airy,  lovely  buildings  be  raised. 
Nothing  vulgar,  common,  low,  and  impure  shall  any 
longer  torture  the  eye.  Our  daily  life  shall 
become  a  pleasurable  toil,  an  enfranchised  science, 
a  wonderful  music,  an  everlasting  merry-making. 
Love,  free  and  sovereign,  shall  become  the  world's 
religion.  No  longer  shall  it  be  forced  in  shaime 
to  hide  its  countenance ;  no  longer  shall  it  be 
coupled  with  sin,  disgrace,  and  darkness.  And  our 
own  bodies  shall  glow  with  health,  strength,  and 
beauty,  and  go  clad  in  bright,  shimmering  robes. 
Just  as  certainly  as  I  believe  in  an  eternal  sky 
above  me,"  shouted  Nasanski,  "  so  do  I  just  as 
firmly  believe  in  this  paradisaical  life  to  come." 

Romashov,  agitated  and  no  longer  master  of  him- 
self, whispered  with  "white  lips  : 

"  Nasanski,  these  are   dreams,   fancies." 

Nasanski's  smile  was  silent  and  compassionate. 

"  Yes,"  he  at  last  uttered  with  a  laugh  still  linger- 
ing in  his  Voice,  "  you  may  perhaps  be  right.  A 
professor  of  Dogmatic  Theology  or  Classical  Philo- 
logy would,  with  arms  and  legs  extended  and  head 
bent  on  one  side  in  profoimd  thought,  say  something 
like  this  :  '  This  is  merely  an  outburst  of  the  most 
unbridled  Individualism.'  But,  my  dear  fellow, 
luckUy  the  thing  does  not  dq)end  on  more  or  less 


THE    DUEL  335 

categorical  phrases  and  comminations  fulminated  in 
a  loud  voice,  but  on  the  fact  that  there  is  nothing] 
in  the   world  'more    real,   practical   and  irrefutable 
than  these  so -called   '  fancies,'   which  are  certainly 
only  the  proj^erty  'of  some  few  people.    These  fancies 
wiU  some  day  more  strongly  and  completely  weld 
together  the  whole  of  mankind  to  a  complete  homo- 
geneous body.     But  let  us  forget  now  that  we  are 
warriors.     We  are  merely  defenceless  starar.     Sup- 
pose we  go  up  the  street ;   there  we  see  right  before 
us  a  wonderful,  merry- looking,  two-headed  monster » 
that  attacks  all  who  come  within  its  reach,  no  matter 
who  they  be.     It  has  not  yet  touched  me,  but  the 
mere   thought   that   this    brute    might    Ul-treat   me, 
or  insult  a  woman  I  loved,  or  deprive  me  of  my 
liberty   is   enough   to   make   me    mad.       I   cannot 
overpower  this  creature  by  myself,   but   beside  me 
walks  another  man  filled  with  the  same  thirst  for 
vengeance  as  I,  and  I  say  to  him  :    '  Come,  shall 
we  go  and  Idll  the  monster,  so  that  he  may  not 
be    able   to    dig   his    claws    into    any   one  1  '      You 
understand  that  all  I  have  just  been  telling  you  is 
only  a  drastic   simile,  a  hyperbole  ;    but  the  truth 
is    that    I    see,    in    this    two-headed    monster    that 
which  holds  my  soul  captive,  limits  my  individual 
freedom,  and  robs  me  of  my  manhood.     And  when 
that  day  dawns,  'then  no  more  lamb -like  love  for 
one's  neighbour,  but  the  divine  love  to  one's  own 
Ego  will  be  preached  among  men.     Then,  too,  the 
double-headed  monster's  reign  wiU  be   over." 

Nasanski  stopped.  This  violent  outburst  had  evi- 
dently been  too  much  for  his  nerves.  After  a  few 
minutes,  he  went  on  in  a  hollow  voice  : 

'"  My  dear  Georgi  Alexievich,   there  rushes  past 
us   incessantly  a  brawling   stream   of  divinely   in- 
>  The  ftllu3ion  is  to  the  double  eagle  in  the  arms  of  Russia. 


336  THE    DUEL 

spired,  lofty,  flaming  thoughts  and  new  and  im- 
perishable idea^  which  are  to  crush  and  bury  for 
ever  the  bulwarks  and  golden  idols  of  tyranny  and 
darkness.  We,  however,  keep  on  stamping  in  our 
old  stalls  and  tieighing  :  '  Ah,  you  poor  jades,  you 
ought  to  have  'a  taste  of  the  whip  !  ' — And  once 
more   I   say  :    This   will  never   be  forgiven  us." 

Nasanski  got  up,  wrapped  his  cloak  round  him 
with  a  slight  shiver,  and  remarked  in  a  weary 
voice  : 

"  I'm  cold — let's  go  home." 

Romashov  rowed  out  of  the  rushes.  The  sun 
was  setting  behind  the  roofs  of  the  distant  town, 
the  dark  outlines  of  which  were  sharply  defined 
against  the  red  evening  sky.  Here  and  there  the 
sunrays  were  reflected  by  a  gleaining  window-pane. 
The  greater  part  of  the  river's  surface  was  as  even 
as  a  mirror,  and  faded  away  in  bright,  sportive 
colours  ;  but  behind  the  boat  the  water  was  already 
dark,  opaque,  and  curled  by  little  light  waves. 

Romashov  suddenly  exclaimed,  as  if  he  were 
answering  his  own  thoughts  : 

"  You  are  right.  I'U  enter  the  reserves.  I  do 
not  yet  know  how  I  shall  do  it,  but  I  had 
thought  of  it  before." 

Nasanski  shivered  with  the  cold  and  wrapped  his 
cloak  more  closely  round  him. 

'"  Come,  come,"  replied  he  in  a  melancholy  and 
tetider  tone.  "  There's  a  certain  inward  light  in 
you,  Georgi  Alexievich  ;  I  don't  know  what  to  call 
it  properly  ;  but  in  this  bear-pit  it  will  soon  go 
out.  Yes,  they  would  spit  at  it  and  put  it  out. 
Then  get  away  from  here  1  Don't  be  afraid  to 
struggle  for  your  existence.  Don't  fear  life — the 
warm,  wonderful  life  that's  so  rich  in  changes.  Let's 
suppose  you  cannot  hold  yourself  up  ;    that  you  sink 


THE    DUEL  337 

deep — deep  ;  that  you  becomte  a  victim  to  crime 
and  poverty.  What  then?  I  tell  you  that  the 
life  of  a  beggar  or  vagrant  is  tenfold  richer  than 
Captain  SUva's  and  those  of  his  kidney.  You  wander 
round  the  world  here  and  there,  from  village  to 
village,  from  town  to  town.  You  make  acquaint- 
ance with  quaint,  careless,  homeless,  humorous 
specimens  of  humanity.  You  see  and  hear,  suffer 
and  enjoy  ;  you  sleep  on  the  dewy  grass  ;  you 
shiver  with  cold  in  the  frosty  hours  of  the  morning. 
But  you  are  as  free  as  a  bird  ;  you're  afraid  of 
no  one,  and  you  worship  life  with  aU  your  soul. 
Oh,  how  little  men  understand  after  all  !  What 
does  it  matter  whether  you  eat  vobla  '  or  saddle 
of  buck  venison  with  truffles  ;  if  you  drink  vodka 
or  champagne  ;  whether  you  die  in  a  police-cell 
or  imder  a  canopy?  All  this  is  the  veriest  trifle. 
I  often  stand  and  watch  funeral  processions.  There 
lies,  overshadowed  by  enormous  plumes,  in  its 
silver -mounted  coffin,  a  rotting  ape  accompanied  to 
the  grave  by  a  number  of  other  apes,  bedizened, 
behind  and  before,  with  orders,  stars,  keys,  and 
other  worthless  finery.  And  afterwards  ^  those 
visits  and  announcements  I  No,  my  friend,  in  all 
the  world  there  is  only  one  thing  consistent  and 
worth  j)ossessing,  viz,  an  emancipated  spirit  with 
imaginative,  creative  force,  and  a  cheerful  tempera- 
ment. One  can  have  truffles  or  do  without  them. 
All  that  sort  of  thing  is  a  matter  of  luck  ;  it  does 
not  signify  anything.  A  common  guard,  provided 
he  is  not  an  absolute  beast,  might  in  six  months 
be  trained  to  act  as  Tsar,  and  play  his  part  admir- 
ably ;  but  a  well-fattened,  sluggish,  and  stupid  ape, 
that  throws  himself  into  his  carriage  with  his  big 

'  Vobla  is  a  kind  of  fish  of  the  size  of  Prussian  carp,  and  is  caught  in 
the  Volga. 

22 


338  THE    DUEL 

belly  in  the  air,  will  never  su'cceed  in  grasping 
what  liberty  is,  will  never  feel  the  bliss  of  inspiration, 
or  shed  sweet  tears  of  enthusiasm:. 

"  Travel,  Romashov,  Go  away  from  here.  I 
advise  you  to  do  so,  for  I  myself  have  tasted 
freedom,  and  if  I  crept  into  my  dirty  cage  again, 
whose  fault  was  it?  But  enough  of  this.  Dive 
boldly  into  life.  It  will  not  deceive  you.  Life 
resembles  a  huge  building  with  thousands  of  rooms 
in  which  you  will  find  light,  joy,  singing,  wonderful 
pictures,  handsome  and  talented  men  and  women, 
games  and  frolic,  dancing,  love,  and  all  that  is 
great  and  mighty  in  art.  Of  this  castle  you  have 
hitherto  seen  only  a  dark,  narrow,  cold,  and  raw 
cupboard,  full  of  scourings  and  spiders'  webs,  and 
yet  you  hesitate  to  leave  it." 

Romashov  made  fast  the  boat  and  helped 
Nasanski  to  land.  It  was  already  dusk  when  they 
reached  Nasanski 's  abode.  Romashov  helped  him 
to  bed  and  spread  the  cloak  and  counterpane  over 
him. 

Nasanski  trembled  so  much  from  his  chill  that  his 
teeth  chattered.  He  rolled  himself  up  like  a  ball, 
bored  his  head  right  into  his  pillow,  and  whimpered 
helplessly  as  a  child. 

"  Oh,  how  frightened  I  am  of  my  room  1  What 
dreams  I     What  dreams  !  " 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  me  to  stay  with  you?  " 
said  Romashov. 

"  No,  no  ;  that's  not  necessary.  But  get  me, 
please,  some  bromide  and  a  little — vodka.  I  have 
no  money." 

Romashov  sat  by  him  till  eleven.  Nasanski 's 
fits  of  ague  gradually  subsided.  Suddenly  he  opened 
his  great  eyes  gleaming  with  fever,  and  uttered  with 
some  difficulty,  but  in  a  determined,  abrupt  tone  : 


THE    DUEL  339 

"  Go,  now — good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,"  replied  Romashov  sadly.  He 
wanted  to  say,  "  Good-bye,  my  teacher,"  but  was 
ashamed  of  the  phrase,  and  he  merely  added  with 
an  attempt  at  joking  : 

"  Why  did  you  merely  say  '  good-bye  '  ?  Why 
not  say  do  sviddnia?  "  i 

Nasanski  burst   into   a  weird,   senseless  laugh. 

"Why  not  do  svishvezia?  "  ^  he  screamed  in  a 
wild,  mad  voice. 

Romashov  felt  that  his  body  was  shaken  by  violent 
shudders . 

'  Ati  rcvoir. 

'  Untranslatable  pun  on  the  two  last  syllables  of  •ividania  ;  Dania 
means  Denmark,  Schvezia,  Sweden 


XXII 

On  approaching  his  abode,  Romashov  noticed,  to 
his  astonishment,  that  a  faint  gleam  of  light  poured 
from  the  dark  window  of  his  room.  "  What  can  that 
be?  "  he  thought,  not  without  a  certain  uneasiness, 
whilst  he  involuntarily  quickened  his  steps. 
"  Perhaps  it  is  my  seconds  waiting  to  conmiunicate 
to  me  the  conditions  of  the  duel?"  In  the  hall 
he  ran  into  Haindn,  but  he  did  not  recognize  him 
immediately  in  the  dark,  and  being  startled,  cried 
angrily  : 

'•  What  the  devil !     Oh,  it's  you,  Hainan— 

and  who's  in  there?  " 

In  spite  of  the  darkness,  Romashov  realized  that 
Haindn  was  doing  his  usual  dance. 

"  It's  a  lady,  your  Honour.  She's  sitting  in 
there." 

Romashov  opened  the  door.  The  lamp,  the 
kerosene  of  which  had  long  come  to  an  end,  was  still 
flickering  feebly  and  was  just  ready  to  go  out.  On 
the  bed  was  seated  a  female  figure,  the  outlines  of 
which  could  scarcely  be  distinguished  in  the  half- 
dlark  room. 

"  Shurochka  !  " — Romashov,  who  for  a  second  was 
unable  to  breathe,  slowly  approached  the  bed  on 
tip-toe — "Shurochka,  you  here?" 

"  S-sh  ;    sit     down,"     she    replied     in    a     rapid 
whisper.     "  Put  out  the  lamp." 

Rrmashov  blew  sharply  into  the  chimney  of  the 

340 


THE    DUEL  341 

lamp.  The  little  flickering,  blue  flame  went  out, 
and  the  room  was  at  once  dark  and  silent,  but,  in 
the  next  moment,  the  alarum  on  the  table  went  off 
loudly.  Romashov  sat  down  by  Alexandra  Petrovna, 
but  could  not  distinguish  her  features.  A  curious 
feeling  of  pain,  nervousness,  and  faintness  of  heart 
took  jxjssession  of  him.     He  was  unable  to  speak. 

"  Who  is  on  the  other  side  of  that  wall  ?  "  asked 
Shurochka.      "Can   we  be  overheard?" 

"  No,  there's  no  one  there,  only  old  furniture.  My 
landlord  is  a  joiner.     One  can  speak  out  loud." 

But  both  spoke,  all  the  same,  in  a  low  voice,  and 
those  shyly  uttered  words  acquired,  in  the  darkness, 
something  in  addition  awful,  disquieting,  treacher- 
ously stealthy.  Romashov  sat  so  close  to  Shurochka 
that  he  almost  touched  her  dress.  There  was  a 
buzzing  in  his  ears,  and  the  blood  throbbed  in  his 
veins  with  dull,  heavy  beats. 

"  Why,  oh,  why  have  you  done  this  ?  "  she  asked 
quietly,  but  in  a  passionately  reproachful  tone. 
Shurochka  laid  her  hand  on  his  knee.  Romashov 
felt  through  the  cloth  this  light  touch  of  her 
feverishly  burning  finger-tij)s .  He  drew  a  deep 
breath,  his  eyes  closed,  and  big  black  ovals,  the  sides 
of  which  sparkled  with  a  dazzling,  bluish  gleam, 
took  shape  and  ran  into  each  other  before  his  eyes, 
reminding  him  of  the  legend  of  the  wonderful  lakes. 
"  Did  you  forget  that  I  told  you  to  keep  your 
self-control  when  you  met  him  ?  No,  no — I  don't 
reproach  you.  You  did  not  do  it  on  purpose,  I 
know  that  ;  but  in  that  moment,  when  the  wild  beast 
within  you  was  aroused,  you  had  not  even  one 
thought  of  me.  There  was  nothing  to  stay  your 
arm.    You  never  loved  me." 

"  I  love  you,"  said  Romashov  softly,  as  with  a 
shy  movement  he  put  his  trembling  fingers  on  her 


342  THE    DUEL 

hand.  Shurochka,  withdrew  her  hand,  though  not 
hastily,  but  at  once  and  slowly,  as  though  she  were 
afraid  of  hurting  him. 

"  I  know  that  neither  you  nor  he  mixed  my 
name  up  with  this  scandal  ;  but  I  can  tell  you  that 
all  this  chivalry  has  been  wasted.  There's  not  a 
house  in  the  town  where  they  are  not  gossiping 
about  it." 

"  Forgive  me  ;  I  could  not  control  myself.  I  was 
blinded,  beside  myself  with  jealousy,"  stammered 
Romashov. 

Shurochka  laughed  for  a  while  to  herself.  At 
last  she  answered  him  : 

"  You  talk  about  *  jealousy.'  Did  you  really 
fchijnk  that  my  husband,  after  his  fight  with  .you, 
was  high-minded  enough  to  deny  himself  the 
pleasure  of  telling  me  where  you  had  come  from 
when  you  returned  to  the  mess  ?  He  also  told  me 
one  or  two  things  about  Nasanski." 

"  Forgive  me,"  repeated  Romashov.  "  It's  true 
I  was  there — but  I  di,d  nothing  to  blush  for  in 
your  presence.     Pardon  me." 

Shurochka  suddenly  raised  her  voice.  Her 
voice  acquired  an  energetic,  almost  severe  accent, 
when  she  answered  him. 

"  Listen,  Georgi  Alexievich,  the  minutes  are 
precious.  I  waited  here  nearly  half  an  hour  for 
you.  Let  us,  therefore,  talk  briefly  and  to  the 
poijit.  You  know  what  Volodya  is  to  me — I  don't 
love  him,  but,  for  his  sake,  I  killed  a  part  of  my 
soul.  I  cherish  greater  ambition  than  he  does. 
Twice  he  has  failed  to  pass  for  the  Staff  College. 
This  caused  me  far  greater  sorrow  and  disappoint- 
ment than  it  did  him.  All  this  idea  pf  trying 
to  get  on  the  Staff  is  mine,  only  mine.  I  have 
literally  dragged  him,  whipped  him  on,  crammed 


THE    DUEL  343 

lessons  into  him',  gone  over  them  with  him,  filed 
and  sharpened  him,  screwed  up  his  pride  and  ambi- 
tion, and  cheered  him  in  hours  of  apathy  iand 
depression,  I  live  only  for  this^  and  I  cannot  even 
bear  the  thought  of  these  hopes  of  mine  being 
blighted.  Whatever  the  cost,  Volodya  must  pass 
his    examination." 

Romashov  sat  with  his  head  in  his  hands. 
Suddenly  he  felt  Shurochka  softly  and  caressi)igly 
drawing  her  fingers  through  his  hair.  Sorrowful 
and  bewildered,  he  said  to  her  : 

"What   can   I  do?" 

She  laid  her  arm  round  his  neck  and  drew  his 
head  to  her  bosom.  She  was  not  wearing  a  corset, 
and  Romashov  felt  her  soft,  elastic  bosom  pressed 
against  his  cheek,  and  inhaled  the  delicious,  aromatic 
perfume  that  came  from  her  young,  absolutely 
healthy  body.  When  she  spoke  he  felt  in  his  hair 
her  irregular,  nervous  breathing. 

"You  remember,  that  evening — at  the  picnic?  I 
told  you  then  the  whole  truth  :  I  did  not  love 
him  ;  but  think,  now,  only  think,  three  years — 
three  whole  long  years  of  the  most  arduous,  re- 
pulsive work — of  fancies,  dreams,  hopes.  You  know 
how  I  ,hate  and  despise  this  wretched  little  provincial 
hole,  the  odious  set  of  officers.  I  always  wanted  to 
be  dressed  expensively  and  elegantly.  I  love  power, 
flattery — slaves.  And  then  comes  this  regimental 
scandal,  this  stupid  fight  between  two  drunken, 
irresponsible  men  accidentally  brought  together. 
Then  all  is  over — all  my  dreams  and  hopes  turned 
to  ashes.  Isn't  this  dreadful?  1  have  never  been  a 
mother  ;  but  I  thi,nk  I  can  imagine  what  it  would 
be  if  I  had  a  son — a  son  petted,  idolized,  even 
madly  worshipped.  He  represents,  so  to  speak,  an 
incarnation    or    embodiment    of    my   life's    dreams, 


344  THE    DUEL 

sorrows,  tears,  sleepless  nights,  a^d  then,  suddenly, 
occurs  a  senseless  accident.  My  little  son  is  sitting 
playing  at  the  window  ;  the  nurse  turns  away  for 
a  few  minutes,  and  the  child  falls  out  on  to 
the  pavement.  My  dear,  my  sorrow  and  indignation 
can  only  be  compared  to  this  mother's  despair. 
But  I  am  not  blaming  you." 

Romashov  was  sitting  in  a  very  cramped  and 
uncomfortable  position,  and  he  was  afraid  that  his 
heavy  head  might  cause  S^hurochka  pain  or  dis- 
comfort. But  he  had,  however,  for  hours  been 
used  to  sitting  without  moving,  and,  in  a  sort  of 
intoxication,  listen  to  the  quick  and  regular  beatings 
of  his  heart. 

"  Do  you  hear  what  I  say?  "  she  asked,  stooping 
down  to  him. 

"  Yes,  yes — talk,  talk.  You  know  I'll  do  all  you 
wish.     Oh,  if  I   could  only " 

"  No,  no  ;  but  only  listen  till  I  have  finished. 
If  you  kiU  him  or  if  they  prevent  him  from  sitting 
for  the  examination,  then  it  is  all,  all  over.  That 
very  day  I  shall  cast  him  off  as  a  worthless  thiiig, 
and  go  my  own  way — where?  No  matter  where. 
To  St.  Petersburg,  Odessa,  Kiev.  Don't  imagine 
this  is  one  of  those  common,  untrue,  *  penny- 
novelette  '  phrases.  Cheap  effects  I  despise,  and 
I  will  spare  you  them.  But  I  know  I  am  you;ng, 
intelligent,  and  well-educated.  I  am  not  pretty,  but 
I  know  the  art  of  catchihg  men  far  better  than 
all  those  famous  charmers  who,  at  our  official  balls, 
receive  the  prize  for  beauty  in  the  form  of  pii 
elegant  card-tray  or  something  between  a  musical- 
box  and  an  alarum.  I  can  stand  in  the  background  ; 
I  can,  by  coldness  and  contempt,  be  bitter  to  myself 
and  others.  But  I  can  flame  up  into  a  consuming 
passion  and  bum  like  a  firework." 


THE    DUEL  345 

Romashov  glanced  towards  the  window.  His 
eyes  had  now  begiui  to  be  used  to  the  darkness, 
and  he  could  distinguish  the  outlines  of  the  frame- 
work of  the  window. 

"  Don't  talk  like  that,  please.  It  pains  me  so  ; 
but,  tell  me,  do  you  wish  me  to  avoid  the  duel,  and 
send  him  an  apology?    Tell  me." 

Shurochka  did  not  reply  at  once.  The  clock 
again  made  its  monotonous,  metallic  voice  heard,  and 
fiUed  every  corner  of  the  dark  room  with  its  infernal 
din.  At  last  Shurochka  answered  as  softly  as  jf 
she  were  talking  to  herself  in  thought,  and  with  an 
expression  in  her  voice  which  Romashov  was  not  ^n 
a   condition   to   interpret. 

"  I  knew  you  would  offer  to  do  this." 

"  I  do  not  feel  afraid,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  stem  but 
soft  tone. 

"  No,  no,  no,"  she  said  hastily  in  an  eager, 
beseeching  whisper.  **  You  misunderstood  me,  you 
do  not  understand  me.  Come  nearer  to  me.  Come 
and  sit  as  you  did  just  now.     Come  J  " 

She  threw  both  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and 
whispered  to  him  tender  words,  tickling  his  face 
with  her  soft  hair,  and  flooding  his  cheeks  with  her 
hot  breath. 

"  You  quite  misunderstood  me.  I  meant  some- 
thiing  quite  different,  but  I  am  ashamed  to  'tell 
you'  all.  You  are  so  good,  so  pure-hearted.  I, 
alas  1  am  the  opposite,  and,  therefore,  it's  so  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  mention  it." 

"  No,  no.     Tell  me  everything.     I  love  you." 

"  Listen  to  me,"  she  began,  and  Romashov 
guessed  what  she  would  say  before  she  could  utter 
the  words.  "  If  you  refuse  to  fight  with  him,  how 
much  shame  and  persecution,  how  many  sufferings 
will  be  your  lot.  No,  no,  this  must  not  be  done.    Oh, 


346  THE    DUEL 

my  God,  at  this  moment  I  will  not  lie  to  you,  dear. 
I  have  already  weighed  everything  carefully. 
Suppose  you  refuse  the  duel.  In  that  case  my 
husband  will  certainly  be  rehabilitated  ;  but,  you 
understand,  after  a  duel  that  ends  in  reconciliation, 
there  is  always  something  left — how  shall  I  put  it  ? 
—something  covered  by  a  certain  obscurity,  and 
which,  therefore,  leaves  room  for  malice  and  slander. 
Do  you  understand  me  now?"  she  added  wijth 
melancholy  tenderness,  pressing,  at  the  same  time, 
a  light  kiss  on  his  brow. 

"  Yes,    but    go    on." 

"  The  consequence,  of  course,  is  that  they  would 
never  allow  my  husband  even  to  present  himself  for 
a  fresh  examination.  The  reputation  of  an  officer 
on  the  Staff  must  be  imblemished.  On  the  pther 
hand,  if  a  duel  actually  takes  place,  it  will  put 
you  both  in  a  dignified,  heroic  light.  Men  who 
can  conduct  themselves  fittingly  in  front  of  the 
muzzle  of  a  revolver — very  much  will  be  forgiven 
them  in  this  world.  Besides — ^after  the  duel — you 
can,  if  you  like,  offer  an  apology  ;  but  that  I 
leave   to    your    own   discretion." 

Tightly  clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  they  con- 
tinued their  conversation  in  a  whisper,  but  Romas - 
hov  felt  as  if  something  mysterious,  unclean,  and 
nauseous  had  crept  in  between  him  and  Shurochka, 
and  he  felt  a  freezing  chill  at  heart.  Again  he 
tried  to  tear  himself  away  from  her  arms,  but  she 
would  not  let  him  go.  In  his  effort  to  hide  from 
her  the  nervous  excitement  he  was  in,  he  exclaimed 
in  a  rough  tone  : 

•*  For  Heaven's  sake,  put  an  end  to  this  !  Say 
what  you  want,  and   I'll  agree  to  everything." 

Then  she  put  her  mouth  so  close  to  his  that  her 
words  affected  him  like  hot,   thrilling  kisses. 


THE    DUEL  347 

"  The  duel  must  take  place,  but  neither  of  you 
will  run  any  risk.  Don't  misunderstand  me,  I 
implore  you,  and  don't  condemn  me.  Like  all 
women,  I  loathe  cowards,  but,  for  my  sake,  you 
must  do  this.  No,  Georgi,  don't  ask  me  if 
my  husband — for  the  matter  of  that,  he  already 
knows  all." 

Now  at  last  Romashov  managed  to  release  himself 
from  the  tight  grip  of  her  soft,  strong  arms.  He 
stood  straight  up  before  her,  and  answered  in  a 
curt,  rough  voice  : 

"  That's  all  right.  It  shall  be  a3  you  ^wish  I 
I   consent." 

Shurochka  also  rose.  Romashov  could  not  see 
in  the  dark  room  that  she  was  putting  her  hair 
straight,  but  he  felt  or  guessed  it. 

"  Are  you  going  now?  "    he  asked. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  replied  in  a  faint  voice,  "  and 
kiss  me  now  for  the  last  time." 

Romashov's  heart  was  shaken  by  pity  and  love. 
Groping  in  the  darkness,  he  caught  her  head  in 
his  hands,  and  began  kissing  her  eyes  and  cheeks, 
which  were  wet  with  big,  silent  tears.  This  took 
away  his  self-control. 

"  Don't  cry  like  that,  Sascha,  my  darling,"  he 
implored  in  a  sad  and  tender  tone. 

Suddenly  throwing  her  arms  round  his  neck, 
she  pressed  herself  tightly  to  him  by  a  strong, 
passionate  movement,  jand,  without  ceasing  her 
kisses,  she  whispered  the  words  in  short,  broken 
sentences.  She  was  breathing  heavily  and  tremb- 
ling all  over. 

"  I  can't  part  from  you  like  this.  We  shall  never 
see  each  other  again.  Some  presentiment  tells  me 
that,  so  at  this  only  moment  we  must  not  fear  any- 
thing in  the  world.     Let  us  be  happy  1  " 


348  THE    DUEL 

And  at  that  moment  the  pair,  the  room,  the  entire 
world,  were  filled  with  an  ineffable  bliss — stupefying, 
suffocating,  consuming.  For  the  space  of  a  second 
Romashov  fancied  he  saw,  as  it  were  by  miracle, 
Shurochka's  eyes  shining  on  him  with  an  expres- 
sion of  mad  joy.     Her  lips  sought  his. 


"  May  I  accompany  you  home?  "  asked  Romas- 
hov, as  he  escorted  her  to  the  street. 

"  No,  my  darling,  don't.  I  have  not  the  least 
idea  how  long  I've  been  with  you.  What  is  the 
time?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  have  not  a  watch." 

She  stood  lingering  there,  leaning  against  the 
gate.  A  powerful  scent  arose  from  the  earth  in 
the  warm,  languishing  summer  night.  It  was  still 
dark,  but,  notwithstanding  the  darkness,  Romashov 
could  clearly  distinguish  Shurochka's  features^ 
motionless  and  pale  as  a  marble  statue's. 

"  Good-bye,  my  darling,"  she  uttered  at  last  in  a 
weary  voice.  "  Good-bye."  They  embraced  each 
other,  but  their  lips  were  cold  and  lifeless. 
Shurochka  departed  quickly  and  was  swallowed  up 
by  the  dark  night. 

Romashov  remained  a  while  listening  till  the  last 
faint  sounds  of  her  light  steps  could  no  longer  be 
caught,  and  then  returned  to  his  room.  A  feeling 
of  utter,  yet  pleasant,  weariness  took  possession  of 
him.  He  had  hardly  undressed  before  he  fell  asleep. 
And  the  last  impression  left  on  his  mind  was  a 
faint,  delicious  odour  of  perfume  proceeding  from 
his  pillow — the  scent  from  Shurochka's  hair  and 
her  fair  yoimg  body. 


XXIII 

yune  2,  1 8 — . 
Z. 

To  his  Excellency  the  Colonel  and  Commander  of 
the  — th  Infantry  Regiment  from  Ditz,  Staff -Captain 
of  the  same  regiment. 

Report. 

Herewith  aUow  me  respectfully  to  report  to  your 
Excellency  that  the  duel  l>etween  Lieutenant 
Nikolaiev  and  Sub  -  lieutenant  Romashov  took 
place  to-day,  according  to  the  conditions  settled 
by  you  on  the   ist  inst. 

The  two  adversaries  met  at  5.55  a.m.  in  the  wood 
called  "  Oakwood,"  situated  three  and  a  quarter 
versts  beyond  the  town.  The  duel  was  decided  in 
the  space  of  one  minute  ten  seconds,  including  the 
time  for  placing  the  parties  and  giving  the  signal. 
The  places  taken  by  the  duellists  were  determined 
by  lot.  When  the  command  "  Forward  "  was  given 
the  fight  began.  As  the  two  officers  approached 
each  other,  a  shot  from  Lieutenant  Nikolaiev  struck 
Sub -lieutenant  Romashov  high  on  the  right  side. 
After  this  Lieutenant  Nikolaiev  stopped  to  await 
his  adversary's  bullet,  but,  after  the  lai>se  of  half  a 
minute,  it  was  evident  that  Sub -lieutenant  Romas- 
hov was  not  in  a  condition  to  return  the  shot,  by 
reason  of  which  Sub-Ueutenant  Romashov's  seconds 

declared  the   duel   was    ended,   as   to   which   other 

349 


350  THE    DUEL 

witnesses  were  agreed.  Sub -lieutenant  Romashov, 
on  being  carried  to  his  carriage,  fell  into  a  deep 
swoon,  and  died  in  five  minutes  through  internal 
haemorrhage. 

The  seconds  on  Lieutenant  Nikolaiev's  side  were 
the  imdersigned  and  Lieutenant  Vasin  ;  on  Sub-lieu- 
tenant Romashov's,  Lieutenants  Biek-Agamalov  and 
Viatkin.  The  further  arrangements  for  the  duel 
were,  by  general  agreement,   made   by   me. 

A  certificate  from  Dr.  Znoiko  is  enclosed  herein. 

DiTZ, 

Staff -Captahn, 


Ube  Orcsbam  press 

CirWIN  BROTHERS,  LIMITED 
WOKIMO  AND  LONDON 


Date  Due 

f  1  1  n 

O    '70 

I!  .R 

? 

UCl  RtC'D 

WnA  '^      '"'' 

MAY  2 

6*72 

"'■'■  1  0  , 

itB    J 9  74 

S^ECD  J 

\N  2  6  iy/4 

PuiNTED  IN  U.S.*.             CAT.   NO.   24    161               (*^               1 

UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITr 


A     000  722  864     6 


•v-:-' 


*^^' 


